


Standby

by nctatnightnight



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Blue Balls, Come Swallowing, Confrontations, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Edgeplay, Elevator Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Overstimulation, Porn With Plot, Role Reversal, Sneaking Around, Soul-Searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2020-10-24 23:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20714384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nctatnightnight/pseuds/nctatnightnight
Summary: The Reader gets way more than she bargained for during her dream internship at JYP as an assistant manager for Stray Kids, starting with a peculiar night when Bang Chan won't come out of the green room.





	1. Chapter 1

This was your luckiest break yet, and now it was crumbling in front of your eyes.

You stood rigid, wrestling with the unyielding doorknob in the hallway, silently pleading it to just open. Your knuckles were actually sore from constantly knocking, but you went for it again.

“Chan?” You tried calling out once more.

“_Seriously, just a minute!_” Came the agitated reply.

“Come on, this is ridiculous!” You shook your head, running through your list of options.

This wasn’t like Chan. You’d only been working with him personally for a few months, but you were well aware of him before that. Before you were accepted into your internship with JYP, you had actually been working at the cafe on the ground floor of the building. You saw Chan nearly every day, being friendly and holding doors open for people. He even came and ordered coffee occasionally, enjoying being able to have someone new to chat with in english. When you were first introduced to the band as an assistant manager, Chan immediately jumped up and vouched for you. In return, you promised him you’d always do your best to do right by him. Your transition into the group’s lives was made so much easier, and you knew you could count on Chan for being a good guy.

Why was it, then, that he was being so god-damned difficult? He had been holed up in the green room since the group left standby to wait on deck in the wings backstage at Inkigayo. You knew it had been a rough day overall. The boys practiced until midnight and after a few hours of sleep they had been in the studio until it was time to leave for the recording late in the afternoon. He’d seemed out of it, on edge, endlessly tired. You tried to think of every tactic you’d witnessed Hyun-Jae-unnie try with the group. She’d been one of their managers for a couple years now, and she was a sight to behold. She knew the schedules, the flights, the appointments, she had members’ favorite candies on her at all times, she knew when they preferred to fall asleep and what they would probably want to order from any restaurant near the dorm. Recalling everything you possibly could, you knew Chan needed plentiful, yet firm, encouragement.

“Chan?” You attempted, more gently this time, “You’ve been doing so well today. I just need to come in and make sure you’re okay so we can get you on deck.”

“_Holy shit, one fucking minute please?_” You blinked hard at the frantic reply. This was so unlike him, but now you were getting concerned. You clenched your fists around imaginary stress balls. A drastic thought came to mind.

“Chris. Let me in. Or I’m coming in.”

A pregnant silence ghosted through the door. You’d only used Chan’s other name once, in disbelief after a couple too many beers during a group night out. He’d clumsily attempted to big brother you and chide you about wasting time on another intern at the company who wouldn’t stop flirting with you. The idiot intern did, indeed, waste your time, but you never forgot how Chan had tensed under the name coming out of your mouth.

Well, he did this to himself. There was no way you were failing a task as deceptively simple as “get Chan out of the green room before I kill him.” You inspected the doorknob: it had a little hole in the center. Remembering how you’d seen Hyun-Jae-unnie do it before, you opened your bag and pulled out the knitting needle she suggested you keep for just this reason. You fiddled with needle in the lock, hoping to trip the simple mechanism. The lock finally gave way with an audible click, sending you stumbling onto the floor of the green room.

You quickly scrambled to sit up, simultaneously gasping and covering your eyes at the sight of Chan – face flushed but rapidly reddening – as he stood from the seat at the vanity and whipped around, trying desperately to stuff his rigid member back into his pants.

But it was too late. Your hand still clamped over your eyes, you now impatiently placed the other on your hip.

“Chan, are you kidding me?! Is that what we’re all waiting for? Can you finish up please?”

“Don’t you think I would if I could?!”

“Fine, walk it off and let’s go.”

You turned around so you could safely open your eyes once more and waited for any sort of answer, only to be met with Chan cursing under his breath as he put himself back together.

“_Oh, of all the fucking things, Jesus Christ–_” he muttered.

“What is it now?!”

Chan sighed, defeated. “The zip is stuck.”

Your eyes practically rolled back in your head from the force of your annoyed groan. You wheeled back around, storming across the room to slap Chan’s hands away from his pants. Grabbing firmly at the zipper, you began wrestling with it yourself, only half noticing the mild terror and gross curiosity in Chan’s eyes as he watched.

“I’m sure you’re just sweating,” you sneered. “You know, from being caught.” You were teasing, and it was possibly mean, but you both understood he sort of deserved it.

“Well, maybe if you weren’t being so pushy I could actually finish and you wouldn’t have to catch me.” You did look up now, rolling your eyes at Chan’s provoking smirk.

You wrenched at the zipper, which was well and truly stuck. You could almost hear all of your superiors berating and mocking you for causing a broadcast delay. Suddenly, an idea struck.

“Chan,” you started carefully, “I can make this work. I have a safety pin in my bag that I can use to just hold the opening down for the broadcast. Then we can push the problem onto a stylist.”

“Brilliant!”

“But…”

Chan let out an exaggerated sigh. “What?! What now?!”

“I need to have everything else in place so the pin isn’t carrying any tension, or else it might break or bend. So I need to button and belt you.”

“Sure. And?” He rushed you.

“Calm the hell down. I… Well, I can’t exactly get in there safely if you’re still hard. Can you at least shove it down one leg?”

Chan nervously bounced his foot and turned away and back again, the blush returning to his cheeks. “I can’t. That’s why I was trying to take care of it, but I can’t even finish. And, as I’m sure you can see –” he gestured to the ludicrously expensive pants, “– these aren’t exactly forgiving and I’m actually a little claustrophobic in them. All I know is I was super stressed and feeling a little anxious, and I’m a genius and thought ‘Sure, I can relieve some stress super quick if I hang back in the green room’, but now I can’t finish and can’t get it back down, and I’m pretty sure I’m actually dead and this is hell.”

The only idea ringing out in your head was a stupid one, but was the only viable option if you didn’t want to call for help, and good god you didn’t want to call for help. In your first week as an intern, you messed up the coffee order once and caught flack for it for three days. No. No help. This was all up to you, and you’d be damned to let Chan trip you both up. You placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Channie,” you tried gently, “I can fix this. Do you trust me?”

His eyes widened at the cute name, momentarily distracted from his current doom. He shook himself out of it. “If you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, then I’ll tell you right now that that’s not happening –” Chan babbled incessantly, crumbling faster and faster towards the hell that was going to engulf you both if you weren’t careful.

“Chris.”

His eyes darted back and forth from your hand clutching his shoulder, to your determined gaze.

“Chris,” you began again, “we’re going to make it out of this, but you’ll have to trust me. I said I’d always do right by you, right?”

“Right.” He was quieter now, warily following your subtle lead as you slowly backed him up against the vanity he had been sitting at when you first stumbled in, your other hand still gripping his waistband. “You can say no,” you reminded him as you let him go.

He took a moment to silently consider before he heartily shook his head to refute. “No,” he said definitively, “it’s insane but I think you and I are both a little too manic from stress to come up with anything better. Do it.”

You both nodded in agreement as you grabbed for his jeans, this time pulling them down just enough to give him some breathing room. You hesitated as you reached for his hard cock when you suddenly realized. You reached one hand to his face, the other around his waist, and Chan leaned back, curiously considering what you were doing before he tentatively ducked his head back down to yours. His eyes closed, his lips barely brushing yours when you realized what he was doing. You yelped, jumping back. Chan looked puzzled.

“Wrong?”

“Wrong. Don’t make it weird.” You nodded and approached him again, trying again and this time quickly slipping his headset off of his ear and switching off his mic pack. God forbid a sound tech checked the monitor and overheard.

Chan smirked. “It’s already too weird to not be weird.” His raised eyebrows faltered as you finally got a tentative hold of his cock. He let out a thick groan, eyes squeezed shut and unable to hold back as you began to gently pump his length. Instinctively, you gracefully spat onto your palm before resuming stroking him, the added lubricant making him whine and squirm. He leaned back more against the vanity, breathing hard and watching you intently now. His moans made you blush, really making you consider just what the hell you were doing.

“If it helps,” he groaned, “I’ve always thought you’re really pretty.”

You accidentally squeezed hard, getting a strangled whimper out of Chan. You clamped your thighs tight, hoping to dull any arousal threatening to bubble up “Nope, doesn’t help,” you squeaked, “shut up. It’s just business.”

Chan shook his head. “So sexy,” he mused sardonically, biting at his lip as you began stroking him harder.

“Close at all?” You asked, hopeful as you noticed the flush crawl up his neck and his grip on the vanity tighten.

“Much more than earlier,” he observed thoughtfully.

“How do we get you there?”

Chan looked as pensive as he could with you adding more saliva to the firm length of his cock.

“… Say my name again.”

You raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Really?”

“I like the way it sounds when you say it,” he murmured sheepishly.

Fine. If it would help him finish, then you would play along. Still massaging his rigid member, you let yourself lean more into his personal space. Chan watched carefully as you finally met his gaze.

“You do?” You asked, almost cutely. His eyes widened just the smallest bit, his blown out pupils shaking as he barely nodded. “You like hearing how I want you to cum, Chris?” His breathing hitched. You quieted every nerve in your body tempted to respond to how turned on you wanted to be. You pulled away from his stare, leaning up instead to press your lips to his ear. “Say it.”

“I…” He tripped over his words, only made worse as you stopped stroking him.

“Say it, Chris,” you hissed.

“I… I think about it a lot. I love it,” he admitted quietly, his hands gripping the vanity tightly. Your heart stopped and you urged yourself to charge ahead.

“Good.” You praised, unknowing exactly where all this energy was coming from, but unable to immediately deny that it felt good. Chan’s moans more steadily turned to whimpers as you quickly resumed your previous, vigorous pace.

“Oh, fuck,” Chan whined. You couldn’t help but let a small smile take hold.

“What now?”

“I’m getting close,” he groaned desperately, “thank Christ.”

“I think you mean 'thank you’.”

“Not yet, I don’t.”

You gave in to the moment, unable to not share a short, exhausted laugh between the two of you. However, you knew you were running short on time. You pressed your lips to his ear again.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?” He shivered. You were only further emboldened.

“_Cum._” You commanded, your slick grip focusing on the head of his cock. Just as you felt him tense against you, you dropped to your knees in front of him, earning a surprised and loud yelp as you wrapped your lips around his spurting cock and sucking him dry. You looked up, admiring as Chan threw his head back, cursing to himself as you swallowed the hot load. Confident of a job well done, you gave a satisfied smile to his rapidly wilting member.

Chan watched, dazed and stunned and speechless as you quickly set about ruffling through your bag, still on your shoulder from the moment you burst into the room. Swiftly, you fished out the safety pin, stuffing Chan back into his briefs and into his impossibly tight jeans and pinning his fly closed after you buttoned and belted him. You finished off with a quick spurt of hand sanitizer on your palms and a mint in your mouth before grabbing Chan by the arm and hauling him out of the room.

You hazarded a glance back at Chan’s goofy, half-awake grin as you pulled him towards the wings backstage.

“Shut up.”

“I haven’t said anything!”

“You want to, though.”

Chan, enjoying himself entirely too much, stifled a giggle. “No,” he laughed, “wouldn’t be very professional.” He jogged ahead, apologizing profusely to the managers and rattling off a thorough excuse. Hyun-Jae-unnie looked at you skeptically before finally settling on a look of quiet pride at your success in your task. Chan looked back as he bowed his head in gratitude for everyone’s patience, having the audacity to shoot an actual wink at you.

This was going to be trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stakes are higher when the Reader is saddled with a grueling mission: find the member who didn't make the plane and get them on the next flight. And who else would it be but Bang Chan, who only wants to talk about what's going on between them?

Your sneakers slapped the bruised linoleum floor of the terminal, sprinting each time you were out of sight of a huge crowd. Honestly, you fit in with every other rushing traveler in the busy concourse. Time, as always, was of the essence, and you only had so much before this comically bad situation got worse.

The group had already been late leaving for the airport that morning. It was as rough of a time as any, only made worse by being in preparation of an international flight. Bags were being packed and reviewed, passports were being gathered, and everyone was already tired. By the time the group left the dorm, you all had barely any time to make your plane. Arriving at the airport, however, turned the whole debacle into an entirely different beast. Other countries, other industries, used service hallways and back entrances for high profile travelers. Hyun-Jae-unnie made it very clear to you from your first flight with the group that the whole point of going to the airport wasn’t so much to travel as it was to be _seen_ traveling. It was no secret that fans always mysteriously knew when the band would be flying.

On this particularly rainy morning, all the fanfare was waiting inside Departures like a bubbling volcano. The sliding doors opened and you flinched at the barrage of flashing lights as you all rushed through check-in and security. Pushing through a bombardment of various intrusions, both professional and not, you all finally made it onto the plane safely with only minutes to spare.

Until your mentor yanked on your carry-on strap. Hyun-Jae-unnie looked frantic, her eyes screaming.

“We’re not all here. Didn’t you do the head count while I checked us in?”

You could feel the color drain from your face. In all the commotion, you had only heard “head count” and nothing else. You’d assumed she was just saying that she was taking care of it.

“Because,” she continued, her pallid complexion looking dire, “guess who just texted me as I was turning on airplane mode?” She pushed her phone into your hands.

Chan.

You whipped your head around. The rest of the boys and staff looked just as confused as you felt. Hyun-Jae-unnie snatched her phone back from you, her other hand clutching your shoulder.

“Fix it.”

“But, Unnie – ” you began weakly.

“But nothing. I trusted you to do something, and since you didn’t, now I’m trusting you to fix it. I know you can. So do it. Rehearsal is tomorrow morning, 8AM local time. Be there, _with_ Bang Chan.”

You had taken three minutes to hyperventilate in the jet bridge once you deplaned, and now you were sprinting through the terminal looking for your worst nightmare: a lost idol. An odd phenomenon caught your eye. Bands of students and teenage girls were milling about. You assumed you must be on the right trail. Time and time again you checked your phone, praying that Chan would get back to you since you texted him the moment you were off the plane. You began ducking into each and every shop on the concourse, looking down every aisle and around each display in hopes of finding him, all while attempting to not draw attention. You turned a corner in the shop you were currently searching when a hand darted out and clamped over your mouth. You were dragged back into a half bear hug, half chokehold, as you tried to gain all the will and strength you had left to unquestionably destroy whoever was daring to add to your misery today.

“_Thank_ _god I found you!” _Chan quietly exulted. “_This has been an absolute disaster._” You spun around, excitedly flinging your arms around him before you could stop yourself. Embarrassed, tired, and despondent, you quickly regained your composure the best you could. You took a few minutes to pull yourselves together before you got the hell over it and set to work.

Moving quickly, you worked together to evade attention. You ducked into a service hall once you made sure the coast was clear. Your black face masks were swapped out for white spares you had in the bottom of your carry-on. You pulled off your light windbreaker and pushed it into your bag, pulling on Chan’s offered flannel that he’d been wearing under his jacket, which he then threw into his own bag. Pulling out a beanie from the front pocket of his backpack, Chan finally felt ready to join you for your next step. You moved swiftly through the crowds back to the ticket agent desk, grabbing your IDs and going about setting up a new first class flight. You were assured by the agent that even though you were on standby, you had a good chance of getting on the next nonstop in an hour, a couple of booked customers being notorious for last-minute cancellations.

So that left an hour.

You flipped through any and all options for privacy in your head before suddenly realizing the best course of action. Grabbing ahold of Chan’s arm, you made a beeline for the airline’s guest lounge. It was oddly full for a weekday morning, but it seemed more than welcoming with its low light and bartender on duty. You gave the front desk attendant the information for the company account and, once inside, immediately pulled up a seat at the bar. You slipped off your face mask and practically inhaled the first drink you ordered, feeling just a little more relaxed at this late, late hour of 10AM. Chan settled in beside you and ordered you both a round.

“Thanks,” he offered, playfully nudging his shoulder into yours. You shook it off.

“I said I’m always going to do right by you. Besides, it’s my job.” You gave him an exhausted, small smile.

“And you’re good at it,” he encouraged. “One minute I’m checking to make sure I have my wallet, the next I’m entirely lost with a whole mob of fans hunting me down. Hyun-Jae-noona may be a machine, but you’ll be giving her a run for her money someday, and probably soon.”

A humble blush seeped over your cheeks, but you knew it wouldn’t last. Given the opportunity, Chan would inevitably bring up that evening backstage at Inkigayo. He’d been trying for weeks now and you’d skillfully dodged him time and time again.

“So,” he began, with all the subtlety of a cannon, “we have plenty of time to talk about you and I.”

“Hmm, no,” you laughed, accidentally too meanly, firmly shaking your head as you maintained a hard gaze on your empty glass, “because there is no ‘you and I’. I helped you out. Like I said, it’s my job.”

Out of the corner of your eye you caught Chan cock his head and frustratedly play with the case on his phone. “_That_ isn’t exactly in your job description last I checked, and I’m pretty sure you enjoyed it way more than you care to let on.”

It wasn’t. You did. But you were petrified to let Chan know that, for more reasons than just the most obvious one concerning your employment status. Despite those conflicting feelings, however, what was more pressing was how much Chan being upset made you upset in return.

“Right. Because _that_ rests on a line way beyond the one I shouldn’t have crossed in the first place, and I should’ve known better than to make suggestions to an idol thinking with his dick.”

Chan slapped his hands down on the bar as he got up, letting out a spiteful scoff with an exaggerated shrug. “Better than taking suggestions from an intern who refuses to acknowledge she may have been thinking with her pussy. Now, if you don’t mind, am I allowed to leave your sight to piss, or are you going to come watch me so you don’t disappoint your bosses?”

You gawked, speechless and fuming as Chan turned heel and crossed the unusually busy lounge to the first of two private restrooms down the hall at the other end of the room.

Your mind raced, your heart pumped into your throat, your palms sweated, but worst of all was your stupid pussy betraying you at its mention. As you attempted to massage the TV static out of your temples, Chan’s stupid, mesmerizing scent wafted into your nose from his flannel you were still wearing. Your stress headache was about to turn into stress nausea and making Hyun-Jae-unnie proud would only feel so good if you were lucid enough to enjoy it and god _damn_ Chan for being so cocky and rude and _right_. Grappling both yours and his carry-on bags, you hauled them to the front desk attendant to be left in their care before you stormed across the lounge and all but kicked in the restroom door Chan had conveniently forgotten to lock in his anger. You were taken aback for a second, amused at how he wasn’t even taking a piss. The man was just leaned back against the sink and tapping on his phone. You should’ve known; Chan used various forms of this tactic all the time back at the dorm – walk it off and wait it out. But you weren’t interested in waiting, nor walking it off. He cautiously looked over as you flipped the lock.

“Oh, so you _do_ want to watch–” Chan sneered, stopped dead by you shoving him back against the sink and yanking down his mask before capturing his lips in a furious kiss. He pulled as far back from you as he could while being pinned up against the porcelain, waiting for your next move. This jerk was _grinning_. “What happened to not making it weird?”

“It’s too weird to not be weird,” you growled, shaking your head. “You want to see me thinking with my pussy? I’ll fucking show you.”

“You’re a busybody, you know that?” Chan mused, mostly mumbled between your resumed kisses. You plucked off his beanie and threaded your fingers into his hair, winning a throaty groan from him as you tugged on his wavy tresses.

You dragged your lips from his own down to his neck, the skin there raising in goosebumps to meet your hot breath as you absently ground your hips against his. “Chris,” you moaned against his throat, your special magic word already making him shiver, “tell me how much you’ve been thinking of me.”

“Making assumptions, aren’t you?” He chuckled before surprising you. He pushed you back, hips first, angling you back against the tile wall and caging you as his hands kept teasing to touch you. Each time he got close, he backed away a little more.

“Can’t make assumptions when it’s just facts,” you smirked, breaking his concentration as you shoved him back against the sink. “Now tell me how much you’ve been thinking of me.”

“Every fucking night,” he breathed, eagerly following as you led his hands around your waist. “I’ve been losing sleep wondering how to get you alone. Not quite what I had in mind, but I’ll take it.”

“Well, you have me now, so you better make the best of this before I come to my senses.” You slipped your hands under his shirt, finally letting yourself feel his taut stomach that you’d admired more than once when you’d caught glimpses of it. The groan under his surprised flinch made you clutch your knees together a little tighter.

Chan nodded firmly before leaning down and hoisting you up and wrapping your legs around him in one swift move. “Yes ma'am.”

Was it dumb that those words alone struck up a tingle in your spine? You waited, curious as he spun and sat you on the edge of the sink.

“Have any ideas?” You asked.

“Just a few. Been thinking with my dick after all.” He gently pushed you to lean back against the mirror above the sink, giving you a sly smile that faded the moment he went to pick the button of your jeans.

You put a hand on his. “What’s wrong?”

Chan shook his head. “Is this stupid?”

A sigh erupted from your chest before you could stop it. “If I’m being candid, this is worse than stupid; it’s dangerous. But you’re really cute and I’m really enjoying myself. I think we can be stupid and dangerous once or twice.”

“Well now we just sound reckless.” You knew that look. Chan was on the edge of panic. You sat up on the ledge of the sink and gently took his face in your hands.

“Chris. Are you enjoying this? Do you like me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded weakly. “Of course. You’re gorgeous and you drive me nuts and I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then kiss me – ah!” You interrupted, putting a finger to his lips and shushing him before he could continue being so wishy-washy. “Kiss me. It’s not like it’s our first or anything, but it’ll calm you down and get you back in the game, I promise.”

Chan fiddled with your fingers where they still rested on his hand.

“Or…” You ducked closer, attempting to catch his gaze. “You can say no. I won’t deny I’m being a little selfish, but I’d never try to steer you wrong, Chris.”

He thought about it. He really thought about it, still fidgeting with your fingers tangled with his before he suddenly had his same, goofy, self-assured smile. His other hand brushed your cheek, his rings there zipping cold against your skin before you were faced with his lips hesitating, meditating right before yours. You waited to close your eyes as if you’d miss something if you didn’t keep watching, and he finally kissed you. It felt different: sweet, thoughtful, curious – a wine you’d first tried under different circumstances but never really appreciated before, but now feared you’d take it for granted.

You gasped, dazed and startled like a shaken sleepwalker as Chan did, indeed, get back in the game. His hands gently pushed you to lean back against the mirror with renewed confidence and he was back on you, kissing you with new vigor as he tried once again to unfasten the button of your jeans. With newfound success, he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and swiftly yanked them down along with your panties, down to your knees where he paused for just a second. You couldn’t help but smirk at Chan’s momentary admiration of your pussy on the ledge of the sink. His eyes ticked up to meet yours, staying there as he slowly sank to his knees in front of you. He tugged your jeans down further to your ankles. He ducked under and between your legs, allowing you to spread your knees around him and let him take his time as his lips ghosted over your warm heat.

“Alright,” he smirked, “I’m not exactly a pro at this, but–” His sudden groan was delicious as you raked your fingers into his hair and tugged him close, causing a premature kiss between his lips and your damp pussy. He quickly became accustomed after his initial taste, a deep moan following his tongue into your wet folds. You bit down a moan, your teeth digging into your lip as your hips rolled against Chan’s tongue.

Your ears perked at the sound of a zipper and a small smile pulled at your lips, content to know how turned on Chan was to please you. A noticeable change occurred in his rhythm as his hands transitioned from clutching your thighs, to one gripping his rigid cock, the other beginning to dip into your dripping juices and tease your quivering hole.

“Is it good?” You asked, chest heaving and your head dizzy.

He pulled up, his shameless smile slick with you. “You’re fucking delicious,” he breathed.

The moment his tongue affectionately laved your clit in combination with his fingers slowly slipping inside your depths, you cried out, unable to hold back and earning the biggest shit-eating grin from the man between your legs. He resumed eating you ravenously, his tongue and fingers probing you in tandem as you slowly ascended your peak. Were the lights in this bathroom always so intense? Your knuckles were pale wrapped in Chan’s hair, the veins beneath scripting thoughts you were still too afraid to say.

“Chris,” you wavered, your thighs trembling where they sat on his shoulders, “I’m going to fucking cum –”

“Oh yeah?” He raised his eyebrows as his fingertips crooked up inside you. “Show me, baby.”

Your cheeks washed crimson at the sweet name, nearly thrown off track but brought back the moment he resumed pumping his tongue and fingers together, the syncopated ministrations bringing you higher and higher until you couldn’t hold it anymore. A bolt of lightning traveled up your spine, circling your head before finally striking. Your fingers knitted into Chan’s hair, you cried out and roughly ground your pussy against his mouth as your orgasm washed over you.

But he didn’t stop. He dug in harder, you could actually feel his dark smirk as you nearly screamed. He caught you just in time, shooting a hand up to clamp over your mouth as he kept tasting your dripping folds. After all, there was a room of people just outside.

“_Chris_,” you whimpered into his palm, “_please, please, please._”

_Please_, stop? _Please_, more? You had no clue, your eyes were practically rolled back in your head.

He backed up just a breath away. “_We don’t stop until I finish_,” he moaned, his husky growl reverberating against your ignited nerves before he fucked you harder. Where was this new edge coming from? Something about it intrigued you to no end. A second peak came into view when an alarm suddenly went off on your phone. You regretfully kicked Chan off of you before digging the beeping monstrosity out of your jacket pocket.

“What is it?” Chan asked, bewildered.

“Oh shit,” you wheezed, still coming back to earth, “we have to go. Come on. The gate is at the other end of the concourse.”

Chan was left speechless for a second, still kneeling on the floor before sighing deep and shoving his hard-on back into his jeans. He watched as you swiftly – and with eerie efficiency – pulled your clothing back in place, checked your hair, and leaned down to wipe his dripping chin with your jacket sleeve after you re-situated his clothing as well. You pulled him to his feet, dragging him behind you down to the front desk and grabbing your bags before sprinting down the concourse, all the while digging new face masks out of your backpack and quickly snapping them on before arriving at the gate.

Thankfully, the seats you were vying for were open, and you could nearly hear applause as you hauled Chan down the jet bridge and got settled in first class. Finally, as the plane was taxiing, you pulled out your notebook to get some neglected work done. Chan, headphones on and looking agitated, reached over, plucked your pen out of your hand, and scribbled in the margin of your notebook page.

_So, if I’m not going to finish, we at least definitely have more than enough time to talk now, right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at nctatnightnight.tumblr.com!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on a ridiculously long international flight, Bang Chan tries to ignore the tension and get the Reader to open up about their situation.

_So, if I’m not going to finish, we at least definitely have more than enough time to talk now, right?_

You stared at the words Chan scrawled in the margins of your meeting notes from two days ago. He casually set the pen back into your hand. As if getting on the damn plane wasn’t hard enough, now you had to deal with this.

Chan simpered and pulled his jacket out of his carry-on and zipped it on, snuggling into the hood now that he was safely on the plane. He saw your shaking eyes and merely shrugged. _Your move_, he seemed to say.

You grabbed your pen.

_I’m not playing this game_, you wrote, _there’s nothing to talk about._

Chan rolled his eyes, scoffing under his face mask as he plucked your pen back from you. _What game? It’s a long flight_, he scribbled, _I’m sure we’ll find something to talk about. _

Impatient and fuming, you snapped your notebook shut and chunked it into the seat-back pocket in front of you before bundling yourself into your jacket. You rifled through your bag and dug out your eye mask and, shooting Chan an indignant glare, snapped it on, pulled up your hood, and promptly tried to catch some rest on your dumbly long flight.

However, what you really wanted to do was face the more pressing matter at hand and take any time to process your feelings here as you shuffled in your seat to face away from him. Who were you kidding? Chan, or Chris, or whatever you wanted to call him – was just a guy. Despite the wings you’d been plucking off the butterflies in your stomach, more hatched each day. You were being unreasonable. There would always be another boy with a nice laugh and a cute dimple. There would always be another boy with an adorable nose and a long neck. Just like there would always be another boy that always brought you coffee from the corner store when he went shopping for the band, or another boy that would kiss you as if he was meant to and insist on eating you out while on standby for your flight and –

You shook yourself out of it, sighing as you resettled in your seat. Who were you kidding? Maybe there wouldn’t be other guys like Chris, or Chan, or whatever you wanted to call him, but this was so much trouble that you felt like the deck was on fire while you were bailing out the boat. All you knew was how much more difficult ignoring this was becoming. The first day at the cafe was simple – he was just a customer. The first day with the group was easy – he was just an idol. The day back at Inkigayo was a little more difficult – he was alluring in a way you weren’t sure he even meant, but he was in need of your help and even that got you going in a way you hadn’t predicted before. This was a fine hole you’d dug for yourself, the perfect size for a premature casket. In fact, from all the stress and introspection, you managed to get distracted by actually falling asleep.

Some time had passed by the time you woke up, but you couldn’t be sure if it were hours or minutes. You checked your phone: only one hour had elapsed. You sighed, daring to roll back over and see how Chan was doing. By now he was turned away, curled up with his headphones on as he presumably rested. You slipped off your sleeping mask and sat up, looking down to see what you were wrapped up in: one of those blankets you’d marveled to Chan _once_ about how much comfier they were than the ones in business class. Sighing, you attempted to un-blanket yourself, nearly knocking over a coffee and a ginger ale set on your tray table: your usual order from the beverage cart on long flights. You tasted the coffee. _Dammit_. It was perfect with your right amount of cream and sugar. You sighed, letting your head thunk back against the headrest. Out of the corner of your eye, you spied Chan’s notebook sitting on his tray table, open to a page with choreo notes and bites of lyrics he’d been mulling over when he couldn’t sleep. You surreptitiously grabbed the notebook, sliding the pen out of the spiral binding and, making sure he hadn’t been roused by your secret mission, set to task on a fresh page.

_It’s hard to say exactly what has been going through my head, other than, clearly, I really like you and this is dangerous for both of us, _you wrote.

_You’re being nice like you’re nice to everyone but I keep thinking it’s about me and it drives me crazy. I like my job, and I need it. I graduate soon, and I’ll be that much closer to making this a real career. I’ll be able to go back to my apartment once we get back home, and maybe that’ll be good for both of us, to get some space. I always said I’d do right by you, and right now that means getting back to the way things were. You’re terrific, and that makes it that much harder to not want you like I do. I’m sorry I can’t really find the words to say this in person, but you’re so good to me. I’d rather be frustrated and have to get over you than lose you altogether. _

Before you could chicken out, you set the notebook back on Chris’ tray table and resumed looking like you were sleeping, momentarily terrified as you noticed him shift beside you before a short rest caught you again.

It felt like no time had passed, when in fact it had been another hour and a half according to your phone. You took a sip of your cold coffee before glancing over at Chris’ notebook. A response. Checking to see if he was still resting, you gently grabbed the notebook and pulled it close.

_You don’t think I know how dangerous this whole thing is? For me, too? Believe me, I wasn’t expecting this either, so this is amazing and awful all at the same time. I’ll say what we’re both thinking and I’m surprised you haven’t said yet: I wish it wasn’t you but here you are and this is what we’re working with. I think you’re right about getting some space. It’s the smart thing to do. I’d rather be frustrated than not have you around. _

You went to grab the pen off of Chris’ tray table, not noticing he had woken up and was currently reaching for his drink. Startled, you gasped out a quick laugh before settling, fully taking off your eye mask and slipping it back in your bag. You set the notebook back on his tray table, this time just penning the quick response right there, leaned a little into his personal space over the arm rest.

_Thanks for the drinks. _

He grabbed the pen back from you with a smile. _No problem. _

You pulled your own pen back out from your notebook. _So, _you scribbled,_ we’re keeping it professional. _

_Yeah, _he replied,_ professional is really the only way to go if we want to survive this. _

_It was nice while it lasted, though. _

_I wouldn’t trade it for anything, _he responded_. _

_Could you imagine? Secret gifts and dates and the whole shebang. _

You were almost writing in tandem now, each of you filling up a column on the page.

_Right? Bad secret names for KKT. “Princess” or “Boo” or_

_“Babygirl?”_

_Shut up. _

You both let out a quiet laugh, settling in next to each other and just writing back and forth like this. You’d never really had a chance to talk to Chris like this before, really getting to know him and just hang out, and it was surprisingly easy to fall into line with, as if you were returning and not just trying it out for the first time. However, each period punctuated how hard reality was going to hit you once this plane landed, and according to your watch that was creeping closer and closer. Filling time on your stupidly long flight turned out to be so much easier when it was with someone you enjoyed this much. Naps filling the spaces between movies and eating and work and more talking all the while left you dumbfounded as the captain announced your upcoming descent.

Here it was. Reality. Being professional. Being able to keep each other around while keeping the careers you both worked so hard for. Was it the change in altitude or your stomach crowding your lungs from the growing pit inside you? You grabbed Chan’s notebook one more time – your exchanges filling nearly ten pages of notes in various sizes and lengths, the blank spaces filled with doodles and games of tic-tac-toe.

_I’ll miss this,_ you wrote.

_Me, too,_ he replied.

You shared a meaningful look as the plane touched down. This feeling was familiar. You stood up straight once the plane pulled into the gate, shaking it off and getting the hell over it. You were smart. You were professional. You were capable. You were right back in management mode, getting the two of you through customs with ease and arranging for an Uber with your international phone booted up and ready to go. Quickly, you sent a quick text to Hyun-Jae-unnie to let her know you’d arrived. No replies came except for a memo in your inbox letting you know rehearsal was thankfully postponed by a couple hours. You really had to pat yourself on the back: you were going to get to the hotel with plenty of time to change and settle and head to the venue for rehearsal. You could already hear the modest praise as your Uber pulled up. Your driver offered you the front seat unless, of course, you wanted to sit in the back with your “boyfriend”. Just as you were about to politely correct him, Chan slid up, thanking him and pulling you into the backseat by the hand.

You stared at him wildly before digging out your phone and tapping out a quick message.

>_What the hell are you doing?_

>>_Oh calm down would you? __I’m enjoying myself for a couple more minutes. This guy has probably never heard of k-pop and definitely doesn’t know who I am. Loosen up… Babygirl. _

>_Shut UP. _

You watched, flabbergasted and quietly impressed as Chan gladly made flawless small talk with the driver involving an entirely untrue story that he had to have been telling off the cuff: you’d met at university in Sydney, you’d been dating ever since, and you’d always wanted to travel to the States together. You nodded along dumbly, never once letting go of Chan’s hand. Was this something he’d thought of already? Some alternate universe where this would not only be fine, but encouraged? Feeling so smitten felt like staring into Oblivion now. You thanked your lucky stars as the car pulled up to the hotel. You tersely thanked the driver before nearly sprinting out of the car and into the lobby to grab your room keys, not daring to look back at Chan gleefully trotting behind you.

Running into the elevator on the outskirts of the lobby, the doors barely closed before you wheeled Chan around, shoving him up against the wall. You punched the button for the top floor, well past where you were heading, but you had more important business to take care of first.

“What the hell was that about?!”

“What?” Chan laughed, “I can’t have one more nice little memory between the two of us?”

You agitatedly smacked his arm. “No, Chan, you can’t! It’s reckless and selfish and wrong and I hate how much I want more of it! We can’t just do this because we have an opportunity.”

“Oh, so I’m ‘Chan’ again now?” You’d expected a few responses, but that hadn’t been one them.

“Yes, _Chan_, because that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” you huffed, “I’m not about to treat you differently anymore just to get your rocks off.” You poked a finger into his chest, shocked as he grabbed it and pulled you close. Struggling for only a moment, you found yourself soothed as Chan only wrapped his arms around you; a simple embrace that would normally be entirely innocuous. You sank into his hold, selfishly taking one more moment as he stroked your hair.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, “I just realized that while we’ve made out, and you’ve jerked me off for God’s sake, we’ve never just done… This? I just wanted to do it before we really have to stop.”

“I… Okay.” For once, you had no words, content to just let this be for a second.

“You have to slow down one of these days,” Chan laughed softly, “I can take care of you, too, you know. Or, at least, I could’ve.”

At this, you looked up at him, gloriously, stupidly infatuated with him as ever, and found him gazing with that same expression right back at you.

And your lips met. You weren’t sure who leaned in first this time, but you seemed to silently agree that anything this stupid worth doing was worth doing until the very last second. Both your carry-on bags hit the floor of the elevator, your arms wrapped tight around each other as you kissed. You were both rudely awakened as the elevator chimed for the top floor, and you impulsively leaned over, punching the button for the bottom floor of the parking garage. The elevator doors slid shut once again and lurched into its descent as you grabbed Chris’ face closer once again. This trip seemed to go by twice as fast, Chris out of breath and nuzzling your neck as the elevator chimed. He reached for the button and you stopped him, your hand on his and leading it back around your waist.

“Did you have to pick the most inconvenient place on the planet?” He laughed right below your ear.

“If we play our cards right,” you breathed, “we won’t be interrupted much if we just let the elevator sit. At worst we’ll occasionally have to deal with an interruption if someone gets on.”

“When we’re trying to get off?” Chris quipped.

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” You smirked in reply.

His hands eagerly squeezed your hips. “I don’t know if you’re keeping score, but I didn’t get to finish–” he quickly checked his phone “– yesterday. I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday.”

“Awh,” you cooed, “is that the case? Maybe I can help you out.” You hazarded a cursory grope of his stiffening member in his jeans. This had quickly crossed back into “too far” territory as Chris’ head immediately leaned back against the wall of the elevator, a low groan escaping him.

“More,” he begged under his breath, his hands clutching onto the hand rail as you snuck your fingers under his briefs to more firmly massage his length. You couldn’t help but marvel at how much had changed since this moment weeks ago at Inkigayo, entirely awkward and tense – to right now, halfway across the world and foolish enough to feel invincible. Chris’ hand gently traveling up your arm to feel your warm breast brought you back to the present time, making you hungrier for even more.

“Hey,” you offered with a sly smile, “didn’t I show you something nifty the last time we did this?”

“You mean that perfect finale?” He replied, trying to keep up despite the blood draining from his head straight to his cock.

“How about an encore?” You laughed.

Chris groaned. “Oh my god,” he smirked, “I thought I was the cheesy one.”

“I figured you’d know as well as anyone I’m a sucker for competition.” You playfully shrugged as you lifted the hem of his shirt for better access to his waistband. You carefully dropped to your knees in the elevator, now resting in the parking garage until it was called again. Chris was stuck looking for a comeback as you pulled out his erection, pressing a sweet kiss just below his navel before tentatively licking a short stripe up the underside of his cock. He cursed gruffly, his knuckles white where he clung to the handrail. “This is what you wanted?” You asked sweetly.

“Please fucking do it,” he pleaded and you gladly obliged, your eyes flitting to the digital display on the wall as the elevator lurched back into motion. You had ten floors to make him suffer, and you savored every second of it as you wrapped your lips around his length. The soft head of his cock dipped further into your mouth, happily taking your time and enjoying his whines. The second the elevator hit the ninth floor, you wiped your mouth and shoved him back into his jeans. You strategically stood in front of him as he impatiently tapped his foot behind you. You made friendly small-talk to the new occupants of the elevator as you typed a quick message to Chris on your phone. You half-turned to show him.

_>You alright???_

Chris grumbled behind you and you felt him tap his phone against your hip a moment later. You looked down and grabbed it to read.

_>>You know those things that people joke about musicians getting to enjoy? Well this is very much that and I’d really really really really like to get back to it_

You barely held in a giggle. The poor guy was doomed and you’d hardly started. You both gave a friendly wave to the passengers of the elevator and he actually beat you to punch the button for the bottom floor again. He let out a heavy sigh as you eagerly dropped back to your knees and resumed the slowest blowjob you’d ever stood to give.

The elevator routine repeated two more times and by now, Chris was sweating. It had reached the point where you were now gently ordering him to keep his hands to himself, you know, so you neither of you would get distracted.

“Please, baby, come on,” he urged, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. He cursed thoroughly as you bobbed him into your throat, lightly gagging for just a moment.

“I wouldn’t beg too much if I were you,” you warned, “I might not have that much more patience for it.”

“You’re right,” he struggled, restraining himself from thrusting into your mouth, “you’re right, baby, I’m sorry.”

You grinned at the compliance as the elevator chimed. It was ringing for your floor. You quickly checked the clock on the other side of the doorway; you’d had plenty of time to play. One more trip and you’d reward Chris for such a good time. You wondered what else you could get up to as the elevator rose, making sure to back up each time it sounded like he was getting close. You teasingly kissed the tip of his cock before slipping it back into his briefs as the elevator neared your floor. Chris finally caught his breath as you dusted yourself off and got up. You pressed a nice kiss to his lips and shared a small smile just before the doors slid open.

Hyun-Jae-unnie was down the hallway, making her way with the boys toward the staff member who had rung up the elevator. She was inspecting her itineraries for the day in a folder she cradled in her arm.

“Unnie!” You called excitedly, giving a wave. Chris cursed quietly behind you. His orgasm just got postponed indefinitely. Unnie’s head snapped up at the sound of your voice and _charged_ towards you.

“Unnie, I–”

“You wretched, horny, _stupid_ girl.” She growled, lunging into the elevator and getting a solid hold on your hair at the root and began tugging you out into the hallway despite your shocked scream. Chris tried to intervene, shocked as Hyun-Jae pushed him off. She was a good bit shorter than you; you’d never expected her to be so strong.

“Noona–” Chris tried weakly, still attempting to let the blood flow back to the right places.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she replied sharply with a glare.

“Hyuna-Jae-noona, it’s not what–” he tried again.

“Oh,” she laughed, crazed, “It’s not what I think? Not much left to think. I leave you two idiots alone for a day and look at this forest fire I have to put out.” She let go of your hair and shoved her folder into your hands. You opened it, nearly dropping it in shock.

Photos upon photos of the both of you from the past 24 hours. Naver and Twitter screenshots printed out, fans wondering who you were and picking you out from photos and footage since the beginning of your internship. Wild conspiracies that you took a separate flight on purpose. Wilder conspiracies that you got the job just to get closer to Chris. Had you really been standing that close together the whole time in the airport? Had you really looked that comfortable together? There were ten or so photos of you both in the airport lounge – you should’ve _known_ it was too crowded to be normal. Hell, there was even a photo of Chris pulling you into your Uber by the hand from just a couple hours ago.

“Noona – ” Chris started meekly.

“Not now, Chan. Go to rehearsal.”

“But, Noona, I –”

“Rehearsal. NOW.” She shot him a severe look. Changbin reached forward to gently pull Chris into the elevator. Everyone watched you, stares ranging from sympathy to contempt as the doors began to slide shut. You turned back to face Hyun-Jae’s rage.

“You. Get in our room right now. We have to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at nctatnightnight.tumblr.com!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reader gets distracted from trying to deal with her current predicament when Bang Chan unexpectedly makes time for them to talk about their situation.

Every step you’d taken to get here was flashing before your eyes and burning to a crisp. Moving with your family to Korea, loving it enough to stay behind and pursue a degree even when they moved away, studying marketing and management in college, working your ass off to pay for school, landing the internship – all the money, exams, all-nighters were _gone_. You were sure of it. Hyun-Jae was going to drag you into your shared hotel room and lock you there until she could put you on a plane to Antarctica to manage penguins. She wouldn’t even have to worry about blacklisting you; the fans would probably take care of that tenfold. Some of the printed screenshots in the folder you’d been handed hadn’t been very nice. _Fat_, _ugly_, _foreign_ – it was high school all over again. If you had been all or none of those things, you still wouldn’t be good enough for them. No one would be. Interestingly, though, a rare amount of those screenshots also seemed oddly positive. You both seemed happy, content, smitten – where were they when you needed the support right now? But, realistically, you knew that wouldn’t matter at the end of the day. You weren’t in charge of your fate in those regards.

Hyun-Jae juggled her hold on your arm to her other hand as she slipped her key card out of her pocket and slapped it against the door lock. You’d always suspected Hyun-Jae was partly excited you were a girl so she could split a room with you and make all the male staff share a room for once. It definitely seemed to help in a situation like this. Your room was more like a miniature suite, with two small bedrooms off a central bathroom and living room with a mini bar. Hyun-Jae dragged you into the room and pointed to the couch.

“Sit.”

You rigidly sat on the couch as she pulled up the easy chair across from you. She pulled over an in-progress bottle of bourbon and poured two glasses.

“You did this, so you’re not letting me drink alone.” She took one glass and slid you the other. You took an obligatory sip of the drink. Hyun-Jae shot hers down and slumped back on the chair, rubbing her temples and perching her glasses on top of her head as she stretched. “I thought you’d be different,” she yawned. The circles under her eyes matched yours.

“I’m sorry?” You asked, mostly unhearing but also, in a regrettable, small way, meaning it.

“Nothing,” Hyun-Jae curtly replied as she stood up, “I’m going to catch the rest of rehearsal. Stay in this hotel, stay in this _room_ if you can stand it. I don’t have the time nor the energy to explain to you just how much shit you’ve created.”

And with that, Hyun-Jae ghosted out the door, leaving you in her wake. What could you even do now? Did you even still have a job? You attempted to keep busy, first carefully answering frantic text messages from family and friends asking about bizarre rumors concerning your coziness with some idol. Your parents never really understood this career you wanted in the first place, and now you were stuck trying to gently explain how it might be over before it ever really began. It wasn’t until well after rehearsal should have ended that you figured you should eat something. Should you get room service? No, you decided. You needed a change of scenery and a little fresh air.

You were catching the elevator back up after meeting the delivery person in the lobby, your food in hand, when the chime sounding the elevator’s calling only one floor up made you flinch. Each dumb decision made in the past 24 hours hung on your shoulders like a cape, trimmed in good intentions and reckless decisions. Why did you have to choose this point in your life to be impulsive and spontaneous?

The doors slid open and you nearly considered running out when Minho and Jisung walked on, still wrapped up in robes and towels after relaxing in the hot tub, but they gracefully cornered you into the elevator car. You all stood in excruciating silence, them exchanging plenty of looks with each other and you just staring anywhere else possible.

“Are you alright, noona?” Minho asked you quietly before Jisung elbowed him in the ribs. You nodded reassuringly.

“I’m fine. Could be better.” You shrugged, attempting to look stronger than you felt as you stared at the digital display, the numbers slowly ticking up.

“Not every day you torpedo a job, I’m guessing,” Jisung said coolly.

The boys bolted upright as you let out a shaky breath, doing everything in your power to not finally cry, to not finally let go of all this pent up emotion, and _especially_ not in front of them.

Minho smacked Jisung in the arm. “Good job, dummy. Stop being so protective.”

Jisung still eyed you suspiciously. “You’re not actually a crazy woman who’s going to kidnap Chan-hyung, are you?”

“What?!” You and Minho both sputtered.

Minho reached back and swatted him in the arm again. “Now you’re being protective _and_ stupid.”

Jisung raised his hands in surrender. “I had to be sure! And now I am. Noona,” he quickly detoured towards you, “do you really like Chan-hyung?”

Your eyes darted back and forth between Minho and Jisung before Minho hit him one last time. “That doesn’t matter; it’s pretty obvious she does.” He turned back to you, now calmly holding your shoulders. “What _does_ matter is… Noona,” Minho implored, “you didn’t _mean_ to fall for Chan-hyung, right? Like you didn’t go out of your way to develop feelings for him?”

You shook your head firmly. “Like I would _want_ to torpedo my job?” You asked, teasingly raising an eyebrow at Jisung, who was now using Minho as a protective barrier between you.

Minho nodded along understandingly. “Okay. That’s all we needed to know.”

“Yup,” Jisung agreed confidently, “Wait, it is?”

“It is.” Minho patted your shoulder encouragingly as the elevator rung for your floor. You watched as both boys turned heel and walked down the hallway, the two of them eyeing Chris curiously as he passed by them, heading straight for you.

You jogged down the hallway and attempted to duck right into your room when Chris bolted over and stopped you, his hand gripping onto yours. “Are you alright?” He asked softly in the hush of the hallway.

“I will be as soon as I get in my room,” you struggled, trying to juggle Chris holding your hand while you tried to work around your takeout in the other, all the while attempting to fish out your key card from your pocket.

“I just want to make sure you’re okay; this is a really shitty day and a whole mess and I’m worried about you and you won’t answer me.”

Chris was right. You had exactly five unanswered texts from him on your phone at that exact moment, all with increasing levels of concern.

“This is fine. I’m fine,” you babbled, “I’m handling this. We wanted space and we got it sooner than expected but we’re handling this. Just take care of you, and I’ll take of me.”

“_Oh my god, would you just let me try to take care of you for once and be there for you?_” Chris whispered in frustration.

“_Trying to sneak in a quickie before the show?_” Came a snide voice from behind the door. You both turned to watch as Hyun-Jae casually swung it open, stepping aside to let you in. You blushed deeply, wrenching your hand out of Chris’ grasp and struggling to meet his eye as you followed Hyun-Jae into the room.

“Noona,” Chris began warningly.

“Chan,” she replied sternly, “you have to be in hair and makeup in an hour. Go relax before the show.”

You could almost _hear_ his agitation grow.

“He’s fine,” Hyun-Jae said, turning back to you, “he’ll either jerk off or walk it off.” You finally looked back at him as he turned to leave. It was rare to see Chris so frustrated, roughly pushing his fingers back through his hair as he stormed off. You set your food on the coffee table, eyeing Hyun-Jae as she sat and poured herself a drink.

“Oh, don’t look so sore about it,” Hyun-Jae waved you off as she took a sip, “it was just a joke.”

“Excuse me if I’m not in much of a mood to joke about my personal life.” You glowered as you paced the room.

“You should be when you drag me into it. By the way,” Hyun-Jae noted as she leafed through some notes on the table, her drink in her other hand, “you’re international, you’re pretty open-minded, so I assume you’re on birth control?”

“Uhh,” you stammered, slack-jawed, “I am, but I don’t need it.”

“Because you’re using condoms?”

Your cheeks burned.

“Ah.” She finished her drink, a knowing smile escaping her. “You haven’t actually done it yet. Well, that’s good. One less mess for me to worry about.”

“That’s hardly–”

“What. It’s hardly anything to worry about? I doubt it. There’s too much time between now and us officially deciding your fate with the company.”

You found yourself glaring as Hyun-Jae slipped the notes on the table into one of her folders and into her giant handbag next to your backpack. She’d actually wrinkled her nose when you showed up at the dorm with your backpack a week or so ago. You’d made the switch from your own big handbag for the sake of comfort and preference. She’d said you looked like a student. You’d reminded her you still were.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m some animal. I can keep it in my pants.” You muttered as you sat on the couch.

She shuffled things around in her bag before zipping it shut. “That may be, but like I said, there’s just too many opportunities. And he’s handsome, and he’s charming, and you’ll fall for it like you have been despite all the danger up until this point. He makes you feel special and like what you have is special, and you’ll find yourself in bed before you know it.”

“Why are you making him sound like such a monster? Or, for that matter, why am I suddenly such an idiot according to you?” You asked, your hands balled up in fists at your sides.

“Oh, don’t get offended,” Hyun-Jae smirked, “that’s not a you thing or a him thing. I know damn well how much pressure these boys are under. I know how stressed they are and how starved for affection they are. It’s an expectation of the business. Just, you know, they’re usually smart enough to not fool around with the staff. I guess you have him really wrapped around your finger.”

You stood up once again. “Oh, just because he acts –” you sputtered.

Hyun-Jae held up a hand so she could continue. “– He usually _acts_ in a way that benefits him. Do you know how goddamn hard I’ve worked to make sure fans feel like the only intelligent being Chan sleeps with is his computer?”

She waited only the briefest moment for a response before resuming. “He’s married to the job, little sister, which helps when garbage like this happens. Fans have a hard time believing it, and I have less to clean up. At least, that was the theory. I foolishly believed you were married to the job, too. I guess you couldn’t help it. Just like he couldn’t. Really, I should’ve seen this coming. Thirty minutes to fix a stuck zipper? Who were you kidding? Who was I kidding? I’m going to get everyone ready for hair and makeup. No wild parties while I’m out.”

With that, Hyun-Jae slung on her bag and set her empty glass on the table before breezing out the door, leaving you gawping in her aftermath.

In a matter of seconds, you impatiently tapped your foot as you sheepishly called up housekeeping to clean Hyun-Jae’s glass that you had shattered against the front door. This was such an alien sensation. The fury seeping through you felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else.

You attempted to do anything to be productive, to distract yourself from your fear and anger and confusion. You answered a few more texts from family, futilely attempting to convince your parents you weren’t going to be homeless and jobless and publicly shamed when you returned to Korea. You’d hoped, at least. Likewise, you ignored the six extra texts Chris had sent you, likely snuck in between stylists and makeup artists putting him through the ringer. Always concerned. Always sweet. Always caring. Each sent you deeper into doubt and confusion. This wasn’t just some game to him. You knew it wasn’t. So why were you considering it? Glancing at your phone, you considered tuning into the live stream for the show when it eventually started, but thought against it. That in and of itself would be inviting trouble. Instead, you took the first stress nap you’d had to resort to in years, waking up after what felt like ten minutes, only to find out it’d been an hour. How did Hyun-Jae get under your skin like that? How did she shoot through to the core of every dumb concern you’d had about this? It was frustrating that she could sound so right about things you could swear were wrong. You were an adult. You were capable. You were professional. The impatience for some relief, some peace of mind, was eating at you. You spent an inordinate amount of time flipping through television channels.

Even then you were only mildly sated. New texts arose from friends – was the sex good, was he really that sweet, did he buy you gifts – and these were too instantly exhausting to even humor. You looked at your phone again. What could checking the live stream hurt? You loved watching the show from the monitors or backstage in the wings. It felt odd to not be there. You wondered how the boys were doing, or how the rest of the staff was doing. For that matter, how could Hyun-Jae turn on you like this? How could she act like you were some dumb slave to your desires and as if she knew best? _You couldn’t help it_ reverberated in your head, and you weren’t sure what made you more furious – Hyun-Jae’s biting platitudes in general, or the fact that you felt a little exposed from her condescending diagnosis. You spied your phone sitting on the coffee table. It wouldn’t hurt to check the stream. Really, it could probably even help you feel better. At the very least it would distract you. Maybe two minutes. Just two minutes.

You snatched your phone and clicked through to the live stream as you sat back down on the couch. The boys were all doing splendid, but your eyes shook as you caught Chris. Chan. Whatever you wanted to call him, his energy was sucking the life out of you. Since when was it possible for him to look this intense and cocky? You were used to a tall level of energy from him, but this was as if he were possessed. He was performing like an absolute beast, grabbing the camera’s attention each time it passed. The sweat on his brow, trailing down his neck and down the collar of his shirt, smudging off his foundation as he danced and hyped up the crowd – you all but threw your phone at the easy chair across from you to calm down. You checked the time. How had you watched for fifteen minutes?!

Fine. He was gorgeous and talented and you were stupid. The joke was on you. Egg on your face, practically frying, you defeatedly got up, grabbed your phone, and exited out of the live stream. You decided to try and take care of some leftover paperwork. Admittedly, this filled enough time until well after the show should be over, but only in that you caught yourself spacing out and reading the same sentence on multiple occasions. It was getting late. You grabbed a beer from the mini bar and headed for the shower.

_You couldn’t help it_, Hyun-Jae echoed in your mind as you simmered under the steaming water, absently sipping on your beer. Having skipped a hair wash and mostly in it for therapeutic reasons, you were able to towel off and immediately hop into some pajamas without dripping too much as you ordered room service. Sure, you could’ve ordered delivery again, but you didn’t want to risk running into Hyun-Jae in the lobby.

Only a few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Puzzled, you crossed the room and opened the door, gasping as Chris herded you back inside and clapped a hand over your attempted yelp. You watched, hushed as he softly reached his foot behind him to gently click the door closed.

“_It’s okay, it’s okay_,” he quietly reassured you, “_it’s just me._”

You peeled his hand off of you. “_I can see that, Chan!_” You angrily whispered back. “_You need to get out! Hyun-Jae–_”

“_– Is entirely busy for the foreseeable evening._”

You stared, wondering what the explanation could even possibly be.

“_Jisung just happened to lose his wallet at dinner after the show._”

A commotion passed by the door and you both stopped to listen. _“How can you lose an entire wallet, Han?! We were at In-N-Out for five whole minutes! Oh my god the stylists are going to murder you if they find out.”_

The small herd outside passed the door, Jisung exaggeratedly apologizing all the way down the hallway. You finally got a good look at Chris. He must’ve been fresh from a shower, smelling amazing and looking cute in just sweats and a t-shirt, his shoes not even tied, and you just wanted to kick him out even more.

“_Is everybody going?_” You asked incredulously, not sure why you were still whispering.

“Not everyone. Just enough to be annoying. For instance, I’m at the gym right now, Changbin is taking a nap, Felix is reading, and Seungmin is busy doing a broadcast.”

“I’m sorry, she took _none_ of the English speakers with her?” You couldn’t help but be amused. Hyun-Jae’s English was good, but certainly not perfect but any means, and only got worse when she was stressed or frustrated. It was another of those things you suspected she took for granted when having you around.

“Nope, and that was definitely on purpose. Everyone with her is running full distraction tactics.”

You crossed your arms impatiently. “For what purpose, exactly?”

“I needed to make sure you’re okay,” he powered through despite your rolling eyes, “And we need to talk. I mentioned needing time tonight and Minho suggested an entire crazy scheme, so I took a chance.”

“Yeah, an insane chance,” you huffed. “What is there to even talk about? We fooled around a little and the fantasy is over now. We’re being professional about this, remember?”

Chris looked at you, the floor, anything as he attempted to start the fifty thoughts running through his mind, absently reaching for your hand and wincing as you snatched it away.

“It’s fine that it happened,” you said, softening a little. “We couldn’t help it.”

You were met with a scoffed laugh as he backed up out of your personal space. “Yeah. ‘Couldn’t help it.’ We accidentally fooled around on multiple occasions now. Couldn’t help it.”

“You know what I mean. Don’t be obtuse.” You replied sharply, your eyes narrowing to keep from tearing up. It was hard not to feel miserably vulnerable.

“And I absolutely didn’t mean to fall for you,” he continued, refusing to meet your eye. You both knew he was a sympathetic crier. “I couldn’t help it. I’m just an idiot who keeps wanting to be with you and I – I’m sorry, but can you please put on a robe or something?”

You were thrown off by the request, looking down to see why on earth he would ask. Admittedly, you preferred to wear comfier pajamas when you were sharing a room with Hyun-Jae than what you normally wore when you slept at the dorm. You hadn’t thought much about your flimsy tank top and shorts when you first put them on, but you suddenly felt exposed. You shot Chris a quizzical glance as you ran into the bathroom to pile on your robe.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging there as he gathered his thoughts. “I’m sorry. I’ve been dying since this morning, and especially after yesterday. The show only made it worse; I’d rather not be distracted. It’s not your fault.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his brazen confession. Honestly, it hurt to see him so distressed. He deserved a break, anything to lighten the mood. Gently, playfully, you nudged his shoulder, trying to lift him back up a little. “What,” you smiled, “couldn’t just take care of it yourself?”

His smile returned as he nudged you back, pretending to get all choked up again. “I tried! I really did. I think I’m developing a problem preforming under pressure.”

“Is that so? I’m sure you’re just being a baby–” you laughed, stopped short as you noticed what you were doing. It’s like you were watching from outside your own body as you saw yourself playfully grab Chris’ dick. Every voice in your head that knew better started shouting over each other as it throbbed at your touch, but the moment your eyes locked all the noise dampened. Even though you quickly grabbed your hand away, he got ahold of your arm and kissed you, softly, once on the lips, as if it were the most normal thing in the world, like you’d been dating for years and this was just another night. This should stop. You knew you should stop, that this was a slippery slope for both of you.

So how was it you found yourself backing Chris against the wall, kissing him fervently, giggling and playing with each other like this was Seven Minutes in Heaven? _You couldn’t help it_, Hyun-Jae condescended in your mind. Fine. Couldn’t help starting it, couldn’t help finishing the job.

Your pushing and pulling at each other led Chris to easily nudge you back, his hands in your hair as he kissed you hungrily. He was just as easily turned to step back, a few easy steps to send you both tumbling over the arm of the couch and onto the plush cushions. Laughing into each other, you resituated yourselves, Chris sat up with you resting on his lap, your tongues eagerly wrestling as you caught yourself firmly rolling your hips against his, his growing hard-on pressing up against you.

“Mmph, no-no-no, wait,” Chris half-pleaded, half-laughed, his hands holding tight onto your thighs to still you, “be careful or I’ll cum. I’m near death, remember?”

“Oh? I thought that was the whole point,” you cooed, “isn’t that why you kissed me?” Your hands trailed down his arms, a cute shiver running through him as you laced your fingers into his.

“No,” Chris chuckled, but not without an edge of seriousness, “I kissed you because I really want you and –”

“Oh, so you _don’t_ want to cum?”

Chris gave a nervous laugh, his eyes wild at the implication. “Nope, not what I said whatsoever.”

You quickly shushed him with a kiss, raising his hands in yours up over the top of the couch. Sitting back, you admired how cooperative he was, still keeping his hands in place as he watched, mesmerized by you untying and opening your robe. “Still distracting?” You asked cheekily, satisfied as he silently nodded. “Oh, no, I guess it’s easier to get distracted than I thought. Looks like I’m getting distracted, too.”

Chris watched, momentarily excited and curious as you lifted the hem of his shirt, his intrigue turned to shock as you quickly pulled the shirt only halfway back over his head, acting as an improvised blindfold and binding, as minor as the effect may be. It didn’t cease to impress you that he could be so compliant, dutifully waiting in place. “There,” you marveled quietly as you let your free hand drift from his collarbones down to his navel, “See? Now I’m plenty distracted.”

“Don’t think this is making me forget that I wanted to talk about this whole mess,” he breathed, waiting for your next move.

“Gee,” you pouted sarcastically, “aren’t I so lucky you’re dying?”

The smallest whine escaped Chris’ throat as you resumed grinding your hips against his, the pathetic sound pretending to be an exasperated chuckle on its way out. “It’s so bad, I feel like I’m buzzing.”

“Oh yeah? Let’s see if we can’t make that any worse.” He couldn’t quite see your sly smile as you let your robe fall from your shoulders and onto the floor. His skin was smooth, cold as marble as your fingers danced down the graceful lines of his torso, teasing and winding their way into his sweats to fish out his blushing, leaking length. The sight almost made your heart stop, Chris heaving for breath and practically sweating as he obediently waited for you to give him some relief. It was so easy, so natural to lean in and kiss his lips, to savor his shivers and wavering breath as he let you take control.

You pulled off your tank top, the cool air of the hotel room making your nipples rub pert against him as you resumed kissing him. “You’re so _warm_,” he marveled quietly against your lips. He hardly registered you raising your hips a little, just enough to slip the crotch of your shorts to the side and tease the head of his member against your soaked entrance. Instantly, he went rigid under you. “_So_ warm,” he repeated, shuddering through a hearty moan. It took so much restraint not to just drop yourself onto his length, but you knew better. Predictably, your resolve proved stronger than his own, unable to stop his shallow thrusts up into you until you bucked him back down.

“You’re going to have to slow down if we’re going to enjoy this.”

“Oh, come _on_, baby, please help me,” he begged.

“I thought you wanted to talk, though,” you teased, subtly grinding down on his length. Thankfully, he couldn’t see just how much you adored him in this moment, just how pleased you were with how he stretched and filled you just right. It was a little frightening, dealing with the reality that it might not be so easy to let go of these feelings you had, especially with him underneath you and so ready to be yours.

“I do, it’s just–” Chris struggled, a clandestine drip of perspiration catching your eye as it rolled from his neck and down his chest, “I _do_ want to talk, I just need you so badly right now.”

The cute desperation in his voice helped keep you on track. “Good. But you definitely can’t cum yet. Won’t it be so much nicer to earn it?”

“Tell me how to earn it, baby,” he offered quickly.

“Count.” The command was so simple, he looked so cute being understandably confused.

“What, I –” he stammered, desperate for whatever would make you do something as you lifted yourself almost entirely off his length, “One… Two, three,” he carefully counted. You barely bobbed the head of his cock in and out of your pussy, the soft ghost of pleasure making his voice waver. “Four, fi– ah, fuck!” Chris’ jaw clenched, hissing as you dipped him full into your depths.

“Good job,” you praised sweetly before lifting your hips back up. “Now start again.” The counting achieved just what you were hoping: Chris was creating so much anticipation for himself that one of these rounds you could drop on the count of one and probably kill him.

Chris swallowed hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing in his throat. “One, two–”

You were both startled at the sound of the door knocking.

“Hyun-Jae?” Chris gasped, well out of breath for more than one reason.

You took a second to come back to earth, sighing in relief as you figured it out. “Room service. Sit still and be quiet. In fact…” You plucked his shirt the rest of the way off before pulling your tank top back on. Moving quickly, you snatched the bathrobe off the floor, pulled the plush tie from it and fixed it around his eyes, binding it to his wrists up behind his head. Next, you swiftly dropped your shorts, grabbing your panties and stuffing them between his teeth. His shock thoroughly muffled, you admired your handiwork as you bundled the bathrobe closed over you and answered the door just enough to thank and tip the porter before snatching the tray of food. You kicked the door closed once again and set the food on the table, casually nibbling at a french fry as you shed the robe once more. The sight of Chris tied up and waiting for you on the couch really was something to behold, something that filled you with a sudden sense of doubt. All this over you? Would he be this person for anyone, so eager to please and be pleased? You shook yourself out of it. You were chosen each time before this, you were chosen tonight, so it would be you and you would enjoy it, no matter how much your conscience told you this was a dumb fantasy to play into.

You strode over to Chris, his chest barely trembling under his regained confidence, having apparently taken a second to calm down. You gently tugged your panties from his lips, amused by his persistent and goofy smile even amidst all this.

“What took you so long, babygirl?” He chuckled, muffled again as you playfully shoved a french fry in his mouth.

“You _definitely_ don’t get to cum if you say that again,” you laughed as you set yourself back on his lap.

“Speaking of cumming…” he alluded with a smirk. How was he still so cute even while blindfolded? You stroked his hair, your fingers gliding back to the improvised binding behind his head. You grabbed ahold, pulling him down to lay flat on the couch.

“Since you won’t stop asking about it,” you lightly scolded, “then we can work on you again _after_ you learn to hold your tongue.”

Just as he began to ask, you got up, smoothly turning and swinging a leg over to slowly rest your pussy down against his lips. He quickly got the idea, licking you hungrily as you quickly got his length just as hard as you had previously left it. He groaned and whined under you as you barely stroked him, barely licked his length, only occasionally bobbed him deep into your throat like he seemed to enjoy so much just that morning. His thighs were shivering as you clutched them still, and you once again couldn’t help but get distracted. Chris, still wearing his untied shoes and sweatpants, gladly eating you while you sat on his face. It was hard not to feel smitten again. How did you keep getting consumed by this feeling? You earnestly shook yourself out of it, getting the hell over it by jerking his cock perfectly for just enough strokes for him to sound devastated when you stopped. The sound brought you closer to a peak you hadn’t expected but gladly welcomed, allowing Chris to rush you to an orgasm with his quickly learning tongue. You decided he more than earned a little affection, sitting up to reach back and lace your fingers into his hair as you ground down on him.

“Chris, Chris, please don’t stop,” you sweetly begged, letting yourself fully give into your infatuation for just a moment. If you couldn’t enjoy it now, when could you? For all you knew, you’d be fired the moment you touched down in Korea, if not even sooner. Your moans reached their own peak along with your orgasm, practically silent with the force of your convulsions on top of him. You collapsed off of him, regaining your breath as he did the same. You sat yourself back on his lap, lovingly kissing his lips as you slowly teased his length back inside you. “You did so well, baby boy,” you soothed with only a hint of a laugh, stroking his hair as he got used to being deep inside you again. “Your turn now, right? Remember how to play our game?”

“Count?” He asked quietly, almost unsure of himself.

“Yes, baby boy, count.”

Your excruciating game lasted three rounds before you gave him a short break, Chris flushed from his cheeks to his chest in the prettiest way when you heard a faint buzzing from deep within the couch. He was practically in tears when you finally took him fully inside you, only ever truly fucking for just enough thrusts to torture him when you stopped. You started him counting again as you dug around, finding that his phone had fallen into the couch cushions. Six whole missed texts from Minho.

_>Hyung_

_>Hyung!_

_>HYUNG_

_>get out of there noona got a phone call and says she has to get back_

_>get out of there NOW we’re pulling up to the hotel_

_>i don’t know how long you have we only managed to hide her key card hurry up_

You quickly sat up, barely noticing that Chris had taken the opportunity to surreptitiously grind his length into you.

“Baby,” you urged, your adrenaline already rising, “we have to–”

A knock at the door.

“Room service?” Chris laughed.

“Hyun-Jae.” You replied in horror.

“God _damnit!_” He growled, quickly pulling his arms back forward and untying himself, easily showing how much of his restraint had been pure obedience. The door knocked again and you hauled Chris off the couch, pulling him across the room. “_What do we do?!_” He whispered.

“_I’m figuring it out!_” You replied, your hushed tone still revealing too much anxiety. Sprinting into the bathroom you turned the shower onto the hottest temperature. You pulled him along and swung open the hall closet door. Chris didn’t even protest as you pushed him inside. “_Be quiet, hide, and I’ll get you out of here._”

A knock sounded once again, more intense this time as you could hear Hyun-Jae rummaging through her bag on the other side of the door. You were both breathing hard, nervous out of your minds, and you hurriedly grabbed his hand to squeeze it. You leaned up, giving him one more reassuring kiss as you returned his phone to his pocket. “_We’re going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. I got this._”

“_Don’t forget we need to talk,_” Chris reminded you, quickly cupping your face and kissing your forehead. “_There’s important things that I’ve been thinking about that I want to tell you._”

“_Of course we’ll talk. I promise. But just hide for now._”

He nodded and you quietly shut the door before you ran back into the bathroom, stripped, got under the stream, then jumped back out and into your robe the next time Hyun-Jae knocked. One big breath, and you opened the door.

“Took you long enough, little sister,” Hyun-Jae teasingly clucked as she walked in, still rifling through her bag. “You missed it, that was the most chaos I’ve been put through all at once in a long time. First Han loses his wallet, then I.N. asks if we can stop somewhere for milkshakes, _long_ after we’d already left In-N-Out. Lee Know and Woojin will _not_ stop bickering about something I couldn’t figure out, and Hyunjin is just _there_, asking if we can do a million things at once. What an absolute nightmare. I have no clue what got into them.”

You watched warily, seating yourself on the couch and picking at your tray from room service, the food now cold from sitting. Hyun-Jae sat in the chair across from you with her bottle of bourbon and two more glasses. She poured you each a glass and offered you yours.

“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. For being so hard on you.”

You took the proffered glass and cautiously sipped at it.

“It’s just, I guess, I was always under the assumption that you were going to be different.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You said that earlier. What does that even mean?”

Hyun-Jae sighed. “Of course, you’re aware that you’re not the first person I interviewed for your position, or even my first intern. I read your profile and application and fell in love with the idea of mentoring you. But I had to be sure, and I was lucky you worked downstairs. So I brought the group to the cafe one day, and you’re there, and you make these googly eyes at Bang Chan, and I wonder if this will spell trouble. I gave you too much money while he talked to you, and you chased me down and gave me my change after I walked away from the register. So, I think, you’re definitely worth interviewing.”

A blush had crept over your cheeks. You never remembered ever making any sorts of eyes at Chris before you formally met, but Hyun-Jae was good at her job for a reason. Maybe she saw something you didn’t.

“And I interviewed you,” she continued, “I’m good at interviews, because they’re fun for me. I’m sure you remember. I came on real strong and real hard, but the important thing was we held the interview while going out for lunch. I had you look up directions and make reservations while we talked, and despite all the multitasking, it didn’t faze you. And I was so impressed, little sister. I still am. So I thought that was a perfect omen, that even if your eyes wandered sometimes, that you would always keep your priorities in order.”

“They _are_ in order… Unnie.”

“I’m glad,” she sighed. “Because I got a phone call from management. You’re okay for now. I pulled some strings and you should be good as long as you lay low for a little bit. Social media is starting to quiet down, and it seems that only the positive stuff is persisting. So for the time being, you’re in the clear.”

A deep sigh escaped you, a giant weight lifted off your chest. But you still felt like you were in hot water. “I’m really grateful, unnie. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“I just,” Hyun-Jae fidgeted with her glass, “I know how easy it is to fall for. You get close to these idols and you really feel for them. I’ve seen it happen a lot. But it’s never destined for anything good. I’ve been around long enough to know that much. What did I tell you when I hired you?”

You stared right into the floor as Hyun-Jae rose from her chair. “You said you’d always do right by me, unnie.”

“That’s right.” She strode over to you at the couch, petting your hair before setting a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll always do right by you, even when you let yourself do something as reckless as fall in love.”

Your heart sank in your chest as you downed the rest of your drink. “I’m not in love, unnie.”

“Good,” she gave you a reassuring smile, “I’m glad you’re keeping your wits about you. Let’s get ready for bed. We’ve all had a long day.”

With that, you were sure Hyun-Jae leaned down to give you a rare hug but, to your horror, she reached lower, grabbing Chris’ shirt that had fallen just under the couch. You watched, speechless as she casually walked straight to the hall closet and opened it. Chris’ eyes darted from her to you, back and forth. He looked sullen, heartbroken and even frustrated as he met your gaze. Wordlessly, he grabbed the shirt and walked out of your hotel room.

You felt the air punch out of your gut. Why did he look so devastated? Everything fell into place as you let yourself fall back into the couch. Hyun-Jae walked back over, refilling your glass.

“Everyone does it, little sister. You just need more practice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at nctatnightnight.tumblr.com!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are awkward when Reader returns to Seoul, feeling a bit more lost and unsure than before that night in the hotel room. Can things be resolved with Chris?

# Standby pt. 5 – The Finale

You felt cold as you half-heartedly browsed the racks of CDs, and it wasn't just because of the dumping rain outside. This wasn't anywhere near the list of things you wanted to do today, yet here you were. Chris had blandly explained Hyunjae promised to take him to the music store on the way to the studio, that he would only need a ride there since he could more safely get back by himself later that night. However, Hyunjae got called away to one of her hundreds of meetings, and you were reluctantly roped in. It was the only thing he’d said to you since you both came back to Seoul. The car ride had been painfully silent. Chris hadn't even worn headphones. He just stared out the window as you drove. 

Chris’ browsing brought him closer down the aisle to you. You’d had enough. It’d been rough trying to navigate this chasm between you and you just wanted to see him put at ease. 

“I'm sorry,” you said quietly, not looking up from the display as you browsed. 

“You don't have to say that,” Chris replied coolly. 

“What do you want me to say?” You prodded. Chris just flipped through CDs.

“I don't _ want _ you to say anything.”

A sigh sank heavily from your lips. “I just feel really bad--”

“That's fine,” Chris firmly snapped at you, “It's fine that you feel bad, because stringing me along like you have been doesn't feel very good for me either.”

“Stringing you along?!” You hated this. All of this. You hated Chris being hurt, but most of all you hated how confused you still were about everything. And now Chris would barely even look at you, let alone talk to you. 

“Yeah,” Chris nodded enthusiastically, “I took all this time, stupidly thinking we were developing something, really putting myself out there like an idiot just because of what you said on the plane, and--”

You looked up to see what had made Chris stop mid-rant. The cameras were here. He sheepishly bit down his anger and engrossed himself in the CDs. Each plastic case clacking against each other made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. 

It was prudent to always be on the lookout for cameras in public, so you should've still expected them even after there appeared to be none when you arrived. You tried to appear to be intently browsing the racks when an obnoxious voice came behind you. 

“_ Can I see the happy couple? _”

_ Oh god. Not this guy. _ You noticed Chris’ shoulders tense along with yours. This guy was awful, this balding frog of a man who was outsourced by a couple fansites to take pictures during school days. You both tried your hardest to focus on your shopping. The guy prodded up against you, only backing off when you shot him a glare. 

“Awh, trouble in paradise?” The frog man laughed, still snapping pictures. 

“Can you leave us alone, please?” You asked begrudgingly. 

“What’s the matter?” The guy condescended, “is boyfriend Chan not getting you the CD you wanted?” This time, the awful man pulled on your sleeve, moving you out of the way to get a picture. 

“Excuse me!” You sharply interjected, stepping back in his frame, “That was extremely rude of you. Please leave us alone.”

“Just a couple of pictures and I'll be out of your way,” he grumbled, elbowing you back to the side. A small crowd was gathering now, despite the distance they kept. You spied a couple of cell phones being whipped out, and the fire in your chest burned a little hotter. 

“I really don’t think so--” you insisted, interrupted as Chris anxiously tugged on the loop of your backpack. Your feet remained planted firmly in place between the two men. 

“Come on,” Chris murmured behind you, “walk away. It’s not worth it.”

“It really isn’t.” The photographer chuckled, now grabbing onto your arm. 

“Let go,” you stiffly ordered, trying to sound as confident as you hoped you could be. 

“Then move,” he challenged. 

“You’re hurting me,” you warned. 

“All the more reason to let me do my job.”

“Fine,” you replied curtly, gaining all the willpower you could, “you do your job, and I'll do mine.”

That was it. You were done. You weren’t dealing with this today -- or anymore, for that matter. Stepping forward, you stomped onto the photographer’s foot, grabbing his camera and shoving it back into his face until he tripped back onto the floor. Your ears perked at Chris’ sharp gasp and whispered string of curses behind you. You grabbed his hand and moved to step around the man, letting out a startled scream as he grabbed onto the leg of your jeans. 

“Cheap move, you little bit--”

Chris stepped forward, getting an arm around you to pull you away. He grabbed ahold of your hand, yanking you back toward the rear exit and away from the assembled onlookers and their cell phones. He slammed open the back door of the store as the photographer got up to his feet and barreled after you. Thankfully the company car was nearby, having chosen to park out of direct view of the street behind the store. You sprinted around and dove into the driver side of the car while Chris scrambled into the passenger seat, your sweating fingers fumbling with the keys as the frog man caught up and attempted to pull the handle. You screamed again, quickly sorting through the keys as Chris reached across you and locked the door. There practically seemed to be three times as many keys as you guessed were necessary. Finally, you got a firm hold of the right key and stabbed it into the ignition. Exhaust spilled out from behind the car as you punched the gas, peeling out of the back parking lot and leaving the photographer in your wake. 

“Why did you get involved?!” You asked Chris, still breathing hard in all the adrenaline as you drove. 

“Me?! Why did you even start it?!” He shot back at you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you let out a crazed laugh, “not all of us are insistent on being so congenial and noble at all times.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I'm not someone who’s going to let people walk all over me just so I can look good.”

“You sure are lucky to have that privilege, aren’t you?” Chris slouched down in the passenger seat, flushed from his anger. “I mean, be condescending all you want, but it works. The pictures speak for themselves. Stay can always tell when I'm not having a good time, even when I wish they couldn’t.” You bit your lip, noticing him fiddling with his fingers and clearly preoccupied with something. The car ride was silent after that, up until you pulled up to the studio. Chris wordlessly opened the door and shouldered his bag. The need to say something, anything, was eating at you as he turned to walk inside. 

“Chris--”

“What?” He asked bluntly, pausing, his hand still about to swing the passenger door shut. He looked so thoroughly exhausted. 

“I'm sorry.”

Chris shrugged. “You couldn't help it.” He looked at you now, really looking at you for the first time in days. Surely, he must've seen how hurt and lost you looked as he shut the door and walked away. 

Your drive back to the dorm felt like a dream, like you were sleepwalking until the moment you walked inside and Hyunjae stormed over to you, apparently back from her meeting. She had yelled and berated you, scolding you for being so stubborn and reckless. Hyunjae shoved her phone in your face, flicking through photos and videos of you and Chris and the photographer. It was useless to tell her you were defending yourself. He was right: the pictures spoke for themselves. You knew you had made a dangerous decision, that the prudent thing to do would’ve been to bite your tongue and do nothing. 

And then she passed the news along. You were too much trouble right now. You were suspended indefinitely while the company figured out how to get rid of you. 

It would take too much of your energy to cry about it. Really, all you could manage to do was catch your bus back to your cold apartment, still sleepwalking as you walked inside. Even though it was your home, it felt so empty. You supposed it was from the lack of people you usually had around, but you knew that in the end, you were just stupid enough to get wrapped up in the wrong good intention. 

Days passed and your friends slowly realized you were back home. The beeping on your phone eventually fizzled from a storm to a light rain, occasionally buzzing as someone wondered where you were, if you were free to catch up. All you could do was drift from the couch to the bathtub to the bed, occasionally heading downstairs to the convenience store on the corner when you noticed you were hungry. It was getting to be too much, weighing on you and insisting upon itself. None of the texts that popped up on your phone were Chris, and they wouldn’t be. You had to finally see that. You resolved to answer the next text that came, praying to feel anything but lost and numb for the first time in weeks. 

_ Come out tonight, _ came the next message, _ we miss you, dummy. _You sighed, begrudgingly thankful it was this and not someone inviting themselves over with ice cream and wine. Still, you fussed over an outfit to wear, even if you were quietly glad to be distracted. You settled on a simple and fun dress with some heels you hadn't worn in forever. You finally took the time to fully clean yourself up, even going so far as to put on some more makeup than your usual. The person in the mirror looked vaguely more put together than you felt, which was just what you needed as you ordered an Uber. 

The club was noisy and crowded, which you knew to expect, but it was bearable to have friends there. Everyone was gracious enough to give you two minutes of personal gushing and pecking and prying before the matter on everyone’s minds finally came tumbling out: Chris or, rather, Bang Chan. Were you dating, were you fucking, were you still together? You dragged your friends into a booth before you finally explained all you were willing to be held accountable for: it was complicated, and it wasn’t what it looked like, and it wouldn't be smart to say anything more. Your friends just about murdered you for such an apparent cop-out, but it was true. You couldn’t afford to give anyone the wrong idea, even if that meant telling them virtually nothing. It was dumb to keep things like this secret, but everyone knew that by this point, no amount of backlash could be cancelled out by now. You were obviously something, but saying that out loud — no matter if it was nothing or whatever it was they thought — would be falling off a tightrope. 

Everyone was pressing you for more details when your phone rang. No one ever called you. Who would be calling you? You checked, your eyes widening in surprise. 

_ Chris _. 

You made an excuse to run off to the bathroom, shutting yourself into the last stall and talking low. 

“Hello?” You asked, attempting not to get your hopes up. 

“_ I’m in a fucking bind,” _ came Chris on the other end, distressed and yelling over music in the background. Where was he? _ “Can you help me? _”

“How bad is it?” 

“_ Bad enough for me to be calling you. _”

Despite the sting, you understood, snapping back into professional mode. It felt like being launched from underwater and back onto the beach as you grabbed a pad and pen from your purse and took notes. Wherever Chris was, it was only a few blocks away. 

Your friends all booed, trying to be understanding despite their frustration at your leaving so soon. You’d been a hermit for a week and suddenly you come out for a night, only to be whisked away once again. The cold air of the street stung as you stepped onto the sidewalk, your heels clicking on the asphalt as you shrugged on your regrettably light jacket. You knew you could walk in the time it would take to wait for a car so you hurried along, dodging passersby and praying it wouldn’t rain. 

You were surprised to find yourself standing in front of another nightclub and you made sure you had the right address. Sure enough, this was the place. You were bewildered as you walked through, grumbling as you dug out a couple bills to pay the cover charge and trying to peer through the dim lighting. The cacophony and drunks were just as annoying as the last club you were in. Chris almost never expressed much interest in going to places like this, so what was he doing here? You combed the whole place, even asking a bartender for a “friend” who just happened to match Chris’ description, when you finally heard a commotion behind you. 

Sure enough, there was Chris, Jisung, and Changbin, all holding back Hyunjae as she clawed at a bouncer. The boys were obviously trying to lay low with their face masks still on. Changbin had the brim of his baseball cap pulled low on his face, and Jisung had his hoodie pulled up. Somehow, the three of them were having a hard time calming down the small woman. 

“_ I shouldn’t have to leave! Let go of me! _” Hyunjae drunkenly screeched, kicking and swinging as the boys tried to keep her contained. She accidently pulled at Chris’ face mask, ripping it off and making Jisung’s hood fall back. Right on cue, the cell phones whipped out and a crowd gathered on the fringes. You stepped forward, and the boys all looked up as they noticed you. Thinking fast, you did the first thing that came to mind: you punched Hyunjae right under the sternum, hard enough to knock the air out of her. The boys quickly grabbed her as she crumpled, slinging her over Chris’s shoulder and Changbin picking up her bag. They followed you out, running out to find the company car while onlookers still followed and tittered behind. 

“Car?” You breathlessly asked the boys behind you. 

“Around the corner, one block down on the left,” Jisung blurted out as he followed. 

And, of course, the photographers, having hidden away in the corners of the club, made their way to the front of the assembled crowd, snapping photos. You fell behind now, trying to get space between them and the boys until they ran up to the car. Jisung yanked Hyunjae’s bag off of Changbin’s arm, digging around until he found the keys and beeped the car open. Hyunjae was loaded into the back, Jisung and Changbin getting in on either side of her as Chris jumped into the front seat. Once they were safely inside, you ran up as quickly as you could in your high heels and fell into the driver's seat. You all fumbled to get the keys into your hand and into the ignition, cursing and yelling as the photographers caught up to you when you finally got the car started. You blasted the horn to disperse the swarming crowd and threw the car in reverse, feeling a bizarre sense of deja vu as you peeled out of the parking lot and onto the street. 

“Where are we going?!” Jisung asked from the backseat. 

“Hyunjae’s place,” you firmly decided, “we can’t let anyone else see her like this. We’ll get her inside and I’ll get you all a ride while I stay with her.”

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked. You nodded definitively. 

“Absolutely. She would do the same.”

You shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat as your dress hugged your legs together more than you’d like. You tried to be sneaky as you slid the hem up a few inches, just enough to get more comfortable as you sped along, but you still noticed Chris out of the corner of your eye, absently watching the extra flash of skin. His attention hurt for some reason, having proof that he still was capable of looking at you that way but not wanting to. 

“Tell me what happened,” you prodded, getting his attention back. He shrugged with a sigh, broad shoulders softening. 

“We were out meeting a producer down the street,” he explained. “Hyunjae-noona’s been acting weird all day, and she said she would wait at the club for us since we were having dinner and would be a while. I thought it was weird at the time, but… I guess I didn't realize what a bad idea it was.”

“It's fine,” you consoled, “your intentions were good. Hyunjae fucked up, not you.”

The boys worked to bring Hyunjae after you as you parked in her building's garage and headed to the elevator. You'd only been here one or two times, but you were still impressed with how humbly nice her place was. You were sure to be quiet as you silently moved down the hallway. 

Until you dropped the keys on the front doormat. 

Hyunjae roused as you hurried to pick up the keys, instantly getting rowdy again. The boys all jumped to attention, doing their best to shush her again as you got the door open. It was so polite of her to decide now was the time to finally lurch. 

“Bathroom, quick,” you directed, Chris following your pointed finger down the hallway. He unloaded Hyunjae off his shoulder and onto the floor besides the toilet and you leapt down beside her, getting her to retch inside. You all took a moment to breathe before Chris surprised you with an offered hand to help you up. 

“I think she's got it from here,” he panted with a small smile. You nodded, exhausted, pulling your phone from your purse and dialing for a car. This was a case of calling on a trusted company, and not just a ride share. The two of you walked back down the hallway, catching Jisung and Changbin collapsed on the couch in the small living room. You directed him to the tiny kitchen, letting yourself fall into a chair at the table. 

“You look really good, by the way,” Chris remarked, but he wasn't quite looking at you as he finally relaxed into the seat on the other side of the small table. 

“So do you,” you replied awkwardly. He really did. He was obviously sleeping and eating and staying active -- he was fine, just like you knew he'd be.

“I'm sorry if I dragged you away from your plans.”

“I was just out with some friends,” you waved him off, “I wasn't having an amazing time anyway.” His eyebrow perked up at the mention of ‘friends’, but what did that mean? 

“How have you been? The others have missed you.”

_ What about you _ , you wanted to ask, _ didn't _ ** _you_ ** _ miss me? _You thought against it. “I'm fine,” you shrugged, “I'm looking for new work.”

“What?” Chris did look at you now, surprised and a little hurt. 

“Well, yeah,” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “I can't stick around and keep causing trouble. Tonight definitely won't help that.”

_ “ _Okay then, that's fine,” Chris shrugged, “so you’re looking at other companies?”

“Not exactly,” you admitted.

“Oh. So you’re switching tracks, then? You’d do great in marketing.”

“No, same track… But somewhere else. When I was first getting into trouble when we were abroad… Hyunjae mentioned a friend at a production agency in L.A. I actually have a letter of recommendation I want Hyunjae to sign. I even brought it out to show my friends tonight.”

“What?!”

You reached forward, pressing a finger to Chris’ lips and he smacked it away. “Will you quiet down, please?” You pleaded. He looked at you, aghast as he shook his head. “I’m sure you're even madder at me, from the sound of it,” you frowned. He shook his head again.

“No. I'm mad at myself. I'm mad that I let myself think if I got this behind me, that we could... It’s stupid. This is honestly stupid. I should've never let myself love you. It’s just made everything that much more difficult.”

“What?” You asked, dumbfounded. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me how I feel,” Chris reeled, “I’m sorry, but I really am starting to regret falling for you.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. You don’t love me,” you insisted. Chris let out an indignant laugh as he got up. 

“I can't believe you,” he scoffed. “Fine. Tell me what to do. I don’t love you. Whatever. I'm getting the guys and waiting downstairs.”

You watched, feeling a bizarre sense of heartache as Chris pushed himself away from the table and stormed off. There was a quiet argument in the living room, and the front door finally swung open and shut. A heavy sigh fell from your gut as you got up. You eventually had to check on Hyunjae; everything had been too quiet. You padded down the hall into her bedroom, sliding open her organized drawers to find her some pajamas. You kicked off your tall shoes before heading back down the hall. 

Hyunjae lay in a heap against the wall next to the toilet, cheeks flushed but otherwise looking alright. 

“When did you get here?” She slurred tiredly as you worked on getting her dirty blouse off. 

“You’re a mess,” you said, feeling almost stronger for saying it out loud. “You caused a lot of fucking trouble tonight. I'm glad it wasn't me for once.”

“I just missed my baby,” she whined, her head lolling back down to her chest as you wrestled a pajama top onto her. 

“Ugh,” you wrinkled your nose, “don’t call me that.”

“Not _ you _, stupid,” she scolded. She kicked you off as she searched for her bag. When she couldn’t find it, she slumped back against the wall, lazily gesturing out to the hallway as she shimmied off her jeans. “In my bag… My baby.”

Whatever. You could leave your letter of recommendation in there for her to sign, but you mostly wanted to know what the hell she was talking about. You found the bag sitting on the couch in the living room where Jisung must’ve left it. Carefully, you shifted around the jostled contents until something caught your eye -- an envelope. Another letter? You slipped it open, wondering exactly what you were looking at when inside was just a picture of a little girl. 

“See, stupid?” Hyunjae asked from behind you. She was fully dressed in her pajamas, leaning against the doorway to the living room. “My baby.”

“I don’t understand,” you shook your head.

“You wouldn’t,” she laughed meanly. “She’s six years old now. I get a picture of her every year. Look on the back. She likes to ride horses and her favorite color is blue.”

“Why isn’t she with you?” You sat on the couch, looking at the picture of the little girl. Hyunjae collapsed onto the couch beside you. 

“Her father knew what was best. He always told me that he would do right by me. We’re not together, and she’s with a family that isn’t stupid like we were. So I guess that’s what was right.”

“Who is--”

“The father? We met when I first became a manager. He was mature and nice and getting divorced. He’s still at JYP.”

You stared, eyes shaking a little as you looked from Hyunjae to the picture and back again. “But who--”

“None of your fucking business,” Hyunjae spat. “He doesn’t get pictures. Just me. I had her by myself, no one else was at the hospital with me. She was my little secret, and now she’s my six-year old little secret.”

“Why stay there, though?” You asked incredulously. “You could work anywhere.”

“I love my job. It’s my whole life. I told him I'd give up the baby if he kept my job. I shouldn't have to leave because I made a mistake.”

You blinked hard at the irony, shaking your head at the absolute audacity of the mental gymnastics at play here. All this time you’d hoped that Hyunjae was acting from a place of platonic admiration, a kind of kinship making her want you to succeed… Not some sort of bitter vendetta against her own mistakes. She ardently believed you couldn't help it just because she couldn’t. That realization burned, but it didn’t manifest as more anger. You pitied Hyunjae, and this didn't feel unlike the moment you’d realized your parents were flawed adults doing their best. Hyunjae interrupted your thinking with her miserable snoring from her end of the couch and, after making sure she was bundled up in a blanket and propped on her side, you found a bucket in her cleaning supplies to set by her. You grabbed a sports drink from her fridge and placed it on the coffee table. To top it off, you dug your letter of recommendation out of your purse, slipping the envelope under the picture of Hyunjae’s six year-old little secret and ultimately helping yourself to the bedroom. 

Nights passed and you didn’t hear from anyone. The morning after you bailed out Hyunjae, you’d slipped your shoes back on and caught an Uber home without rousing her. You didn’t hear from Chris or any of the members, you didn’t hear from Hyunjae, and you didn’t hear from any of your friends because while you were bailing out Hyunjae, you bailed out on them, and they assumed you wanted space. And maybe you did. You threw yourself into your schoolwork, almost forgetting in all this madness that graduation was fast approaching. Normally, you’d be looking forward to becoming a full-time manager, but now you had no idea what would become of you. You checked and rechecked and triple-checked all your graduation materials, refusing to mess anything else up. After all these years of hard work, you would at least walk out with the degree you were entitled to, if not for losing your dream job in the process. 

Graduation itself was almost a relief. Your family got stuck mid-travel and couldn’t make it, but you were being assured through multiple texts during the ceremony that one of your friends was keeping them in the loop and sending pictures. This was puzzling, considering you were currently sitting with most of your friends. It hurt to not have your family in attendance after all this work, but it was nice to know they were trying. You couldn’t shake the fact, though, that this felt like a post-mortem. After this was some ominous void that looked like it could swallow you whole. Years of careful planning, and now you were jobless and directionless. There was really no telling how difficult it would be to find a job with your current reputation if you didn't have someone vouching for you, and the idea of switching tracks entirely felt like failure. 

An elbow in poking into your arm let you know that your existential crisis was almost holding up your row of students. You quietly apologized, quickly getting up and falling into line towards the stage. You still couldn’t focus, lost in how going back to making coffee for bratty teens and huffy professionals would only remind you of how short you cut yourself off. Everything only became more fully realized as you crossed the stage and accepted your diploma. You smiled and waved for the event photographer, but were starkly distracted by something beyond the barrier, towards the back of the grand lawn where the ceremony was being held. A shock of blonde hair and some broad shoulders clad in black caught your eye, only blurred by the distance, but an odd shape that looked eerily like Hyunjae’s giant purse only made you feel even crazier. It would be a bit ridiculous to ghost you and suddenly show up on the fringes of your graduation. Chris, maybe, but absolutely not Hyunjae. Clearly, you had just imagined it, and you shook your head, ready to just head back to your apartment. 

No school and no job would end up being a huge learning curve to get used to. Waking up and having _ nothing _ was a bizarre feeling, and it made you a bit anxious, feeling even more lost than you already had. You tried going back to the gym. You tried going for walks, even when rain was dumping down outside. You got together your resume and a CV and portfolio materials. Nothing was helping fill this vacuum you’d created. For a couple days you severely considered texting Chris, your finger hovering over the send button but never going through with it. Again, he was fine. He would be fine, and once you moved on with everything, you'd be fine, too. 

Another rainy night arrived, this time seemingly out of nowhere, and you were taking firm stock of your cabin fever. What could be changed before you eventually had to move? You could get some plants, you supposed, maybe liven up this oddly cold apartment that didn’t look like anyone of substance actually lived here, when a knock sounded at the door. You tried peering out the front window which looked out at the walkway outside, but whoever was at the door was just out of sight. Carefully, slowly, you cracked open the door and peered out. You gasped. 

_ Chris _. 

He was soaked, having apparently been caught in the sudden downpour. You both stood on either side of the threshold and warily regarding each other. Chris moved first, unable to keep still any longer and he stepped through your doorway, taking your face in his hands and kissing you back into your apartment. Your hands covered his, unsure if you wanted to tear them off of you or hold on tight. You did, however, finally let logic rule for a moment. Your hands drifted down to his chest, his drenched shirt under his open jacket clammy on your fingers as you gently pushed him back. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked him, unsure if you were speaking quietly or if your heart was just beating too loudly in your ears. 

“It’s okay,” he panted, “I’m supposed to be out with a friend right now.”

“No, Chris,” you shook your head, “_ why _ are you here?”

“I…” He paused, biting at his lip as he thought. Were those raindrops on his cheeks? “I heard Hyunjae on the phone earlier. She was talking to her friend in L.A., and I realized you’re really leaving and I might never see you again, and…” He paused again, a little more choked up and frazzled now. 

You took his hand, softly massaging his fingers in your grip. “Chris, Hyunjae isn’t going to just ship me off to L.A. She’s too bitter for that. I don’t know what you heard earlier, but you didn’t have to come here--”

“No,” Chris insisted, “Don't condescend to me. I had to come. No matter what, that moment just solidified that I--.”

You shook your head, letting go of Chris’ hand before he held onto you himself. “Don't say it--”

“Oh, don't you start with that again,” he shushed you. “Would you stop and listen to me for once? If you don't let someone in you're going to end up just as miserable as she is.”

“Fine,” you huffed, wrenching your hands out of his, “I can let someone in, but it doesn't have to be you and I don't have to ruin your career in the process.”

“Would you stop being such a martyr?!” Chris reeled. “Stop being so stubborn and let me be the one to do right by you for once. Don't treat me like I'm so precious, alright?! I'm so tired of being your little secret.”

“Secret? People know, Chris.”

“Then why are you still pretending you don't have any sort of real feelings for me?! What you say and what you do practically never line up and it's driving me absolutely insane. You're so insistent that you're the only one making sacrifices here and I've had it.”

You folded your arms, waiting and praying you were masking the fire raging just under your skin. “Fine. You've made sacrifices, too. Did you get that out of your system? Are you finished?”

“Holy _ shit _!” Chris sputtered. “Would you come off it already? I come out here to tell you I fucking love you and you are being the biggest dick about it!”

“Stop saying that!” You sighed heavily. By this point you were both pacing your tiny apartment. 

“Stop?! This is the first time I could even try to get you to listen after last time, you nag!”

“If you’re going to be calling me names, maybe you should get the hell out,” you ordered, thrusting a pointed finger at the door. 

“Fine!” Chris spat, turning to leave. “Maybe I spoke too soon. You're already plenty like Hyunjae. She must be carting you off because she can’t stand having competition for Most Selfless Asshole.”

That did it. The fire under your skin shot up to your eyes and all you saw was red. You reached past him, grabbing the door handle for him and moving to shove him outside yourself. 

“Hey, would--? Would you -- fucking stop it!” Chris struggled against you. He attempted to push you back so he could actually leave, only to be met with your grappling hands every time he tried to create distance. He sighed. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was mad and it was terrible to say. Please calm down?”

“No!” You roared, startling him. You were too heightened by now, bristling with distress from all sorts of directions. Doing the only thing he could think to do, he tackled forward, hoisting you over his shoulder and trying to ignore your yelling and thumping fists on his back as he marched you across the floor to your bed. He unceremoniously tipped you down, letting you bounce onto the mattress before catching your flailing hands in his again and pressing them into the sheets. 

“_ Now _ can you please calm down?” Chris tried again, and you thrashed in his grip. 

“No!” You yelled again. “I can’t believe you would just come here and try to pull this on me.”

“Pull _ what _ ?” Chris fretted. “I’ve made myself more than clear this _ entire _ time. I’ve never played games, or let you believe that I feel one way and act against that.”

“Oh, excuse me for trying to remain professional!” You shouted as you tried to wrestle Chris off of you.

“What in the _ fuck _ has been professional about this?!” He asked, bewildered. 

“I’m doing my best, alright?!” You shot back, “It’s fucking complicated. You know exactly how I feel and what I'm having to deal with.”

“How would I know how you feel?! You won’t tell me anything! I’m not a fucking mind-reader, and I’m not about to just assume because look where the hell that got me.”

“Well, maybe fucking consider that admitting I love you would feel like creating a giant goddamn detour from what we’re both working for,” you blurted before you could catch the words falling out of your mouth. Your eyes bore into each other, watching, waiting, before he finally had enough and dove into you, his lips back on yours like he was coming home. 

“Say it again,” he urged against you. 

“Say _ what _ again,” you challenged, “I didn’t admit anything.” You wrenched a hand out of his grip and shoved it down between your bodies, pushing past where his rain-soaked shirt was sticking to your stomach where your hoodie had ridden up in your scuffle. He gave a yelp as you tried to clutch tight onto him between his legs. It was a dirty play, but you wanted nothing more than to not have to confront this right now. 

“What the _ fuck? _” Chris groaned against your lips as he tried to pull out of your grasp, only succeeding in his foot slipping in your bedsheets and falling back into your hand wrapped around him in a vice. “I hate how much I missed you,” he spat at you, his tongue nonetheless mingling hot with yours at your insistence. 

“You can’t just get me to do what you want by strongarming me,” you fired back, your grip on his cock through his jeans only getting worse as you began to massage his length. 

“Don’t distract me,” he panted, but it sounded more like a plea, “and I'm not trying to _ make _ you do anything.” Finally, he let out a thorough groan at your rubbing, reacting enough for his grip to falter on your other wrist. You took the opportunity to kick him off the bed and onto the floor before you pounced on him, your soft lounge shorts not doing much to protect you from his rigid length rubbing hard between your legs as you pinned him. His hands scrambled to stop you again as you kept him distracted, rolling your hips on top of his and _ hating _ how much you missed him, too. 

“It’s so _ easy _ for you,” you hissed as you grinded down against him, only letting his restrained moans fuel you more, “you can come here and profess your feelings for me, but I'm the one who’ll get heat for this if we try to make it happen and people know. You’re _ famous _, Chris, and I'm just staff. Or at least I was. No matter what, I'll be some dumb girl, or some monster, who couldn't fucking help it, and either I took advantage of you, or I was too dumb to stop this, but no matter what I'll come out worse than you will. This can be a bump in the road for you but this is already ruining all my hard work.”

Chris finally bucked you off, getting up and grabbing your arm to drag you back to the bed. He easily tossed you back onto the mattress, slapping your hands away as he tried to regain control. It was almost gross, how good fighting like this felt for some reason, but seeing how bad he wanted you only pulled harder on that gut feeling you kept trying to shut up. 

“You know, plenty of people think we’re just fine. We’d have support,” he huffed as he pinned your hips to the bed. 

“Yeah,” you struggled to pry his fingers off of you, “but _ any _ amount of dissent is going to be enough to ensure I never get to do the work I want in this entire goddamn country.”

“Holy _ shit _, you’re so stubborn,” he growled, exclaiming when you tried to shove your knee between the both of you to throw him off again. He kicked your ankles apart, settling between your legs. His jeans were rough against you where his hips met yours. 

“Do you hate it?” You challenged him. 

“Not at all,” he grinned spitefully, and you realized his smirk matched your own, “in fact, I love it. Because, for some reason, instead of talking like rational people, you're fighting me pretty hard just to not say you don’t love me.”

“Right,” you tripped over your thoughts in an attempt to follow his new tactic, “but you’re the one who kissed me as soon as I opened the door, so who started it?” 

“Fine,” his wicked smile grew along with his confidence, “then tell me you don’t.” Chris rolled you both over, holding you up on his lap with both your wrists in one of his hands. “You’re on top. You've had no problem telling me how it is, so tell me you don’t love me and I’ll leave.”

“It’s not that easy,” you stumbled through your words as you tried to tug your wrists out of his hold. As you stilled, you gradually sank into him. 

“Why?” He asked as he let you sink further against his chest. 

“Because…” You bit at your lip, really thinking of how to go about this. The way he looked up into your eyes made your whole body ignite. His grip on your wrists loosened and you melted against him, your fingers weaving into his hair that was still damp, smelling of rain and sweat as you kissed his brow. “I feel like I’m giving everything up if I say it.”

“It’s not forever,” Chris reassured you as he closed his eyes to accept your lips on his face, “this isn’t a contract. It’s just one day at a time, or a week, or a month, or however long it can be. I want you, even just for a little bit.”

Your lips on his brow traveled down to his cheek, pressing a kiss there as well in a gesture you realized you rarely practiced. Finally, apprehensively, your lips hovered only moments apart from his, hanging in a loaded silence that was threatening to swallow you whole. “Fine,” you carefully announced, “I love you. I'm not sure when exactly it happened, but it did and I've been miserable over you.”

Chris’ grin cracked into a wide smile as he took your face in his hands again. “Oh, babygirl, I’ve been miserable, too,” he laughed as you teasingly swatted him for the name, the actual joy in his voice shooting straight through your heart as he kissed you again. “Say it again.”

“You got one, don’t get greedy,” you jokingly warned, gasping as he rolled you back over in bed. Chris’ hips pressed into yours as his lips traced the line of your cheek down to your neck. 

“I’m _ so _ greedy for it. Please say it again,” he asked against your skin, his breath tickling you and making you laugh. You finally made the decision to push him up from you and grabbing his jacket and pulling it off of him. He playfully cried out as you rolled him off of you and sat yourself back on his hips, taking it upon yourself to peel his wet shirt off of him, just as it was finally beginning to dry. “See? If you’re going to strip me then I deserve at least one more.”

“Make me,” you triumphantly laughed, letting out a pathetic squeak as he quickly tugged your hoodie off over your head. His eyes slowly roamed over you as his fingers played with the hem of your thin tank top underneath. The moment you moaned at the feel of his hand on your breast, that mischievous grin returned as he pinned you back to the bed once more. He let himself get distracted as you slipped off your tank top, his eyes searching you ravenously. Your hands quickly searched for the button of his jeans as he nuzzled and nipped at your breasts, a gasp jumping from him as you finally released his cock and began massaging his bare length in your hands. “Give up yet?” You coaxed him, jumping as he swiftly pulled off your lounge shorts along with your panties. 

“Not at all,” he smirked as he sat back. He kicked off his shoes and jeans and quickly stripped off his briefs before climbing back between your legs, only to be met with your foot pushing him back. You took in the sight of each other, finally fully exposed in the dim light of your tiny apartment. Your eyes pored over his bobbing Adam's apple, down to his heaving chest and following the lines of his abdomen down to his flushed and leaking erection. He looked incredible in this moment, and you let yourself finally feel like he was yours, even for just a little bit. “You’re asking for it,” he laughed, pulling you back to reality, “I’ll make you say it.” 

Before you could get another crack in, he leaned down, kissing your knee and ghosting his lips over your skin on his way up to cage you in his arms on the bed. “Fat chance--” you attempted to tease, the words caught in your throat as Chris’ firm cock prodded into your soaked entrance. His lips pressed to yours as he slowly slid inside you. You never realized how much you’d been yearning for this stretch again, to feel him filling you out as he held you. 

“Say it,” he breathed, that handsome flush that you’d noticed when he was aroused taking over his body and crawling up his chest to his neck and cheeks. “Say it or you're not getting anymore.”

“No no no,” you laughed desperately, “please, please give it to me.”

“I’m sorry, babygirl,” he smiled, “you're not getting any until you say it.”

“No, please,” you begged as you attempted to roll your hips onto his cock from under him. “Please please please.”

“That's really too bad,” he shrugged, “it would’ve been so good.”

“No no, please,” you pouted, “fuck me, please, I love you, fuck me.”

“_ There _ we go,” he groaned instantly as he immediately began thrusting deep into you, “was that so hard? Now try it when I say it.” He kissed you deep again, his hand trailing down to make sure you were spread wide for him as he fucked you. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you said, breathless, loving the feeling of giving yourself in to this moment. Chris moaned on top of you, the way the walls of your pussy massaged his cock making him almost wince from the pleasure. It was so good, you managed to still push him over onto his back, your hot depths still impaled on his length as you began to ride him. You rolled your hips hard onto his, savoring his moans and repeated affirmations of affection made under his breath as he gripped the sheets. You guided him a bit more forwardly, leading one hand to your clit as you grinded down against his length. 

“Since when did you get back on top?” Chris laughed. In this light, you could see how blown out his pupils were, how drunk on you he was that he could barely keep up. “I think I should get to be on top at least once in our lives, don’t you?”

He pushed you back over, taking a moment to tease your nipples with his tongue before he pulled out of you, smiling devilishly at your whines before he moved further down the bed. His tongue nudged in between your legs and your fingers were instantly in his hair, your back arching as he expertly laved at you. 

“Remember the first time I made you cum?” Chris smiled, picking his head up from your pussy and pumping into you with his fingers. You nodded timidly, watching and waiting to see what he was up to as his thumb drew firm circles on your clit. “I don’t think I've gotten to cum with you once since that first night backstage, but ever since I got you to cum I've thought about doing this.”

“Doing what?” You asked. This feeling of giving up control to him was keeping you alert, the vulnerability making you feel like you were spread open for him in more ways than one. He licked deep between your legs once more before coming up for air again, his chin slick with you. 

“I thought you’d remember,” he teasingly pouted, “that first day I made you cum on my tongue, I said that even after you were done, we weren't finished until I did.” Before you could question him, he held tight onto your thighs, keeping you open so he could lick and nibble at your sensitive clit as he pumped his fingers back inside you. Your head pushed back into the pillow, your eyes squeezed shut from trying not to moan too loud as Chris worked you over. All you could do was squeal and curse under your breath, completely at his mercy as his tongue pushed you dangerously closer towards your orgasm. 

“Chris, slow down,” you meagerly begged. 

“I got you, don’t worry,” he soothed, “I love you. You’re going to cum, and I’ve missed it so much. Now say it again.”

And you did. “I love you.” It began as a hushed whisper, then progressed to desperate whines and moans. He had such an affectionate power over you that you would do anything he said. Finally, just like he said would happen, he held you down and licked you through it as you couldn’t hold back your near-scream, your thighs clenching as your orgasm rocked through your body. And, just like he said he would, he didn’t stop. Chris kept licking and fingering your spasming pussy and you could almost _ feel _ his proud smile against you until he finally relented. 

You gasped for breath as Chris climbed back on top of you, his thick length almost intimidating now as he pushed up against you. He pet your hair, caressing your flushed face as you took an agonizing time to come down. “You’re being so open with me,” he marveled quietly. 

You nodded shallowly, still attempting to catch your breath. “Of course,” you breathed, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he grinned, almost as if he still didn’t believe this was happening. In a way, neither did you, until his rigid cock slid back into your aching pussy. You cried out, your hands clutching onto his arms as you were heavily overstimulated. “I got you,” he reassured you again, kissing your face as he fucked you into the mattress, “it’s so good.” He sighed into the crook of your neck, his hips rolling deep into yours. 

“It’s too much,” you whined desperately. 

“No no no, baby, you’re taking it so well,” he soothed, gently rolling you both over so you were perched on his hips once again. From this angle he was somehow even deeper inside you, filling out every inch of you that you didn’t even realize could be. “There,” he soothed, still easily bouncing you on his cock, “you have more control now.”

And, somehow, that move and remark put together made the overstimulation go from near-pain to near-bliss. In fact, in a bizarrely rare turn of events, you felt another orgasm mounting. Chris’ eyes lit up as you thrust along with him. “How close are you?” You asked, your nails beginning to dig into the lines of his chest as your momentum built. 

“Soon, baby, soon,” he struggled, moaning and squeezing his eyes shut as he clutched tight onto your hips, “you’re going to make me cum so hard.”

“Good,” you desperately panted, “me, too.”

Chris’ eyes snapped open, “You’re what?”

“I’m going to cum again,” you whined, trying to match his faster rhythm. 

“Holy shit, I love you,” he smiled, “cum with me.”

You both settled into this faster rhythm, trying to keep up with each other as you both neared your peaks. Chris slowed just the smallest bit, his breath hitching and steadying again as he tried to make sure you would cum together. He listened close for the changes in your sighs and moans, the twinges of your fingers on his skin giving him hints of when you were getting closer. You gasped as he pulled you down to wrap his arms around you, his lips finding yours as you both grew even nearer. 

“Now,” he breathed against you as he felt your walls clench around him, “cum with me now, I’m gonna--!” Chris threw his head back in the pillow, letting out a deep groan as he thrust his orgasm up inside you and savoring your impassioned moans as you came along with him. He held you tight to him, his hands running up your back and into your hair to caress your face as he kissed you through his peak, breathless as his cum flowed into you. 

The air of your tiny apartment was electric as you laid together in your bed, tangled in each other, as well as the bedsheets and your discarded clothes. You rolled off him and laid at his side, keeping a hand pressed to his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Wordlessly, he turned to face you, closing his eyes and grabbing for one of your shuffled blankets. He pulled it up over you both before taking your hand, pulling you to his chest as you both recovered. 

* * *

And you woke up like that. It really was that easy. The two of you had fallen asleep basking in this liberating glow of letting yourselves have what you both wanted, and now you were waking up to the sun already streaming in through the blinds. Your apartment suddenly felt homier, almost like when you first moved in. You looked over Chris’ face, still just as close to yours as when he drifted off to sleep, studying to see how asleep he truly was. Skipping the sweetness, you pinched his nose. 

“No,” he shook his head as he pulled you closer, “I'm sleeping.”

“You’re awake,” you smiled as you grabbed your phone off the bedside, “and I'm ordering breakfast.”

“Oh thank god,” he murmured as he willed you to fall back asleep in his arms. 

“Was last night good?” You softly asked, unable to fight off the smile on your face as your eyes were still waking up. Chris turned his head more into the pillow in an attempt to stay asleep as long as possible. He lazily nodded. 

“_ So _ good. About time, too,” he grumbled with the faintest ghost of a laugh. 

“I never asked,” you said quietly, stroking his hair as you breathed him in, “how did you find my apartment?”

“Hyunjae wanted to talk to you about the job thing but she’s too proud to not fight with herself about it. I convinced her that it was her idea to try and find you at your graduation, and when she chickened out of that, she sat parked in the company car in front of your building for like… I want to say twenty minutes. I almost dragged her up here myself.”

“She wanted to talk?”

“She did,” Chris nodded, finally giving in and opening his eyes. He sat up in your bed and stretched as he rested his head back against the wall. “I don’t know what to tell you. She really was talking to her friend in L.A. last night.”

You dragged each other out of bed, at least enough to each put on at least some form of clothing as you prepared some coffee. He watched intently as you slipped on your bathrobe, but he got distracted by all the parts of your apartment you never really considered before -- the framed pictures, the books, the way you organized your desk. Suddenly, his attention in you and your space made you take a second to remember how lost you'd been feeling lately, if maybe it was just a symptom of something less sinister than mediocrity. 

“What now, you think?” Chris finally asked you. You set a cup of coffee in his hands, trying to focus on this moment so you’d always remember it: Chris, in only his underwear, hair a mess and drinking a cup of coffee while bundled up in your bed. 

“It depends,” you ruminated, “how long can you last?”

“Me? As long as you want, I guess,” he half-shrugged, “as long as _ we _ want, really. I just want you to be happy. I'll be happy knowing you’re happy.”

You held back as you considered all the factors at hand, not wanting to let yourself get distracted by getting nearer to him right now. “What if… What if L.A. makes me happy, but you do, too?”

“Then pick L.A… and me, too, if you’d like. You don’t have to stick with one thing -- or two things -- forever. I'll be happy even having you for a little bit, remember?”

“It won’t be easy,” you warned. 

“Has any of this been easy?” He laughed and you had to agree. You nodded, finally giving yourself permission to draw closer and get swept up in him again when the buzzer on your door sounded. 

“Hyunjae!” Chris scrambled, setting his cup of coffee on your bedside and lunging for his jeans, “Holy shit, she probably tore the city apart looking for me.”

“Not Hyunjae. Food,” you gently reminded him, and he let out a gigantic sigh before collapsing back on your bed. You opened the door. 

_ Hyunjae _. 

“Unnie,” you dumbly greeted, and you heard Chris thunk onto the floor behind you as he frantically reached for his jeans again.

“Little sister,” she awkwardly greeted in return, “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Bang Chan.”

“Noona,” Chris nodded in her direction from behind you, still shirtless and horrified as he made a measly excuse to use your bathroom. 

You straightened up as Hyunjae looked you up and down, as well as Chris as he scampered out of her line of vision. This was your home, and you felt like you were on a little better footing against Hyunjae after that night at her apartment. “I guess I couldn’t help it,” you smiled demurely. 

“I’m sorry--” Hyunjae blurted. She tried again. “I’m sorry, little sister… I realized I’ve been too hard on you. As a supervisor, as a mentor… And maybe even as a friend. I was unfair to you. I'm not very good at this, so…” She slipped an envelope from her purse and into your hands. “You write well, but we already know that, and I made some grammatical revisions, and we both already know that as well. This is just a copy, of course. I already sent the original to a friend in L.A. who’s looking forward to hearing from you.”

“I know,” you replied confidently, excitement brimming under the surface, especially as Hyunjae uncharacteristically had a hard time maintaining eye contact with you. 

“I'm proud of you, little sister,” she finally said, and she nearly took a step back as you gently took her hand in yours. 

“Thank you, unnie. I appreciate that.”

Chris cautiously exited your bathroom, fully dressed in last night’s clothes. He looked back and forth between you and Hyunjae, trying to decipher how civil things were at the moment. “I’ll -- should we…? I could --”

“You'll call me,” you smiled reassuringly as you smoothed out his rumpled shirt, “and I'm going to make a phone call of my own, and in a few days you're going to help me pack, and a few nights after that you're going to take me out before I leave.”

“Yes,” Chris beamed at you, “that. All that.”

Hyunjae modestly looked away and began heading back downstairs as you insisted on kissing Chris goodbye, and you waved him off, feeling a weight lifting off your shoulders to a point that you could swear you were floating. You _ were _ capable, and for the first time, you believed it. 

* * *

> **Standby: An Epilogue**

All these credentials, and you were suddenly a glorified intern. You fumed at whichever idiot’s bright idea it was to transform all your production assistants into liaison staff for groups and their management teams for an event like this. Nevermind that only a fraction of your team were bilingual, but only a smaller fraction were bilingual in a way that actually mattered in an event like this. That meant hiring translators, and that meant hiring temp teamsters to serve in place of your production staff, and that meant no one was prepping green rooms. Your actual staff was out fetching coffee and finding emergency hair products, so you were left grabbing groups for standby for various events of the day. You were walk/jogging to your next green room when your phone buzzed with a text. 

_ >>It was an absolute disaster at the hotel this morning, hope you’re having better luck out there. _

You smiled at Chris’ text, despite the stress coursing through you. Making it work like this had been hard for the past year, but predicting that and doing your best to roll with it had been helpful. 

_ >Disaster out here, too. Can’t we just skip to tonight? _

_ >>Sorry, babygirl, I know you're just dying without me. _

_ >Stop that. I'm just looking out for you and your blue balls. _

You allowed yourself a relieved giggle at your text exchange before your earpiece crackled. 

“_ Green Room 4 for standby, banquet hall B. _”

You clicked the chirp on your receiver twice, letting the channel know you were on your way. 

“_ Already got Room 4, _” someone else came through. You paused in the service hallway you were currently occupying. 

“_ Partial 4, _” a different director corrected. You clicked the chirp twice again, jogging down the hall in your regrettably inappropriate skirt and heels for this type of work before you rapped at the green room door. When no answer came, you flipped through your keys for the green room skeleton key and got the door open, gasping and quickly clapping a hand over your eyes before meekly apologizing as you turned back to face the hallway. 

“Sorry!” You called over your shoulder, “Final call for standby.”

A surprised chuckle came from behind you, instantly melting your heart before you even turned around. There was Chris, face incriminatingly red where he sat at the vanity. “Babygirl,” Chris let out a relieved laugh with a smile, “we've _ got _ to stop meeting like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted at nctatnightnight.tumblr.com! 💕

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to skzctnightnight.tumblr.com!


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